


The Fire's soaring

by CharlyImperial



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Eventual Smut, Grif deals with his feelings for Simmons, Grif deals with his guilt, Light Angst, M/M, Slow Burn, canon typical foul language, mention of PTSD, mentions of fatphobia (only in first and 2nd chapter), the american military system
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:54:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 40,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27696577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CharlyImperial/pseuds/CharlyImperial
Summary: “He needed to remind himself to not care for these people.He was not here to make friends. And he was very aware that there was a good chance they all would die sooner or later.”In which Grif joins the rookie camp and meets some very annoying people.OR Grif’s story gaps explored and filled in with some maroon love.
Relationships: Dexter Grif/Dick Simmons
Comments: 44
Kudos: 43





	1. Rookie camp

**Author's Note:**

> After the last season dropped the bomb on us that Grif wasn’t actually drafted, I wanted to explore what that would mean for his story and his past. 
> 
> Please be aware of canon-typical language (foul, colorful language and Grif’s weight gets addressed very low-key – But I promise the characters will grow and stop doing these mean things to the good boy)  
> Also, my knowledge about the American military system comes from research and movies, so please excuse my (hopefully only tiny) mistakes.

The buzzcut felt wrong.

Too short, weirdly itchy and he looked like an absolute asshole like this.

And, of course, it made him look exactly like all the other poor fuckers around him.  
Which was the point, but that didn’t mean Grif couldn’t hate it anyway.

Right now he and all the other recruits were being forced in a line, with a sergeant walking from one to the next, yelling in their faces.

The men and women were expected to answer with a hearty ˋ _Yes, sir!_ ˋ each time.  
Grif understood it was supposed to show them ˋ _their place_ ˋ or something, but he just found it was stupid and pointless.

But this was the life he had chosen now.

This was his and his alone.

His decision. His freedom.

Grif quickly tried to swallow the bitter lump in his throat down which always showed up when he thought about what he was probably going to face in the next years.

  
He thought of Kai and her sweet little face. How tears had run down her chubby cheeks when he had boarded onto that plane.

One day she would understand. Or maybe she would never. Grif wondered if it would be better to tell her a little white lie. Say he was drafted or something.

Maybe she would never forgive him if he admitted that he had signed up for this.

  
The sergeant was now three or four men away from him and thankfully ripped him away from his doubts and gloomy thoughts.

  
“Are you ready to give your life for planet earth?! Are you ready to give your worthless little ass and leave yourself behind to protect our beautiful home planet?!!” He screamed just inches away from the guys face.

“Yes, sir!!”

And on to the next.

Same sentence. Same answer.

Ridiculous.  
  
Grif braced himself for this. He would not flinch. He would try his best to look unimpressed.  
  
“... for our beautiful home planet?!!“

  
Grif heard the rookie soldier’s breath hitch, heard his voice break: “Y-ye.. yes sir!!“

Poor idiot.

“What was that?! Does that go louder?!“ The sergeant, of course, had to humiliate the man.  
  
“Yes, sir!!“

In a way Grif was glad on the guys behalf that he managed to force that out more clearly and he exhaled a breath he was not aware he was holding.

Shit.  
  
He needed to remind himself to not care for those people. He really should no

He was not here to make friends or meet new people. And he was very well aware that maybe they all would die sooner or later.  
  
This better be worth it.

—  
  
It was grey, slimy and had little hard pieces inside that were unidentifiable.  
And it was sitting on his plate in front of him. This was supposed to be Grif ‘s dinner.

  
“You gotta be kidding me.“ he mumbled to himself, sighed and rubbed a palm over his face in defeat. How was he supposed to survive and work when the food was this shitty?

“... it’s... nutritional paste. It has everything we need, vitamins, fibre and stuff. “A small voice reached his ears.

Grif took his hand away from his face and looked over to a fellow rookie soldier. He couldn’t offer any more than an unimpressed stare.

“Is that so?“ he grumbled, shaking his head and turning his face away again.

“Yes, it is a formula that was developed to-“

“I didn’t ask.“ Grif interrupted the guy a little rudely. “No offense, buddy.“  
  
That shut the man up for good, leaving him with red cheeks and digging back into his own portion of the grey goo.

Grif assumed he left the guy somewhat embarrassed, but he had no energy left to deal with this right now.

He was away from his family for the first time in forever, his hair was way too fucking short, he faced the reality that he was going to wake up at 5 am for a really long time and now... he had to accept this gross looking goo as his dinner.

Give him a break.

  
  
—  
  
Basic training sucked.

  
It was barely the end of his first week here and Grif was already done with this. Maybe this had been a mistake.

5 am, getting yelled at, rushing to get dressed and then jog around the facility, before he could even dare to think about breakfast.

He always came in last. Of course, he did. He had never jogged in his whole life and he was still not a big fan.

Of course, that was rewarded with their sergeant yelling at him for a good five minutes every day, telling him how he was a useless, fat sack of meat.

Grif was massively unimpressed by this.

As if that was the first time someone had reduced him to his weight. He was a big guy and he proudly owned it.

When he was finally allowed to leave to eat his oatmeal in the mess hall, he sat down next to a soldier who immediately tried to start a chat with him.

“Dude, you need to work on your shape if you don’t want that asshole to keep you from breakfast every morning.“

Grif rolled his eyes and shrugged.

“I honestly don’t care how much he yells at me. I hope he chokes on his spit one day. “  
  
The other man started laughing at that and gave him a friendly pat on the back.

“I like your attitude. “he explained. “Screw those suckers, seriously. How does it help us to fight some aliens if we get yelled at? “

“Probably so we don’t get too sad when they eat our guts. “Grif chuckled. “Yes, Mr. Alien, sir! Eat me up! At least I don’t get yelled at anymore! “He tried to imitate a whiny and annoying voice.  
  
That had the other man start laughing again.

“Exactly! “He agreed then and held his hand out for Grif to shake. “I’m Tucker, by the way. “  
  
He was not here to make friends.

He should not care. They were all gonna die one day anyway.

Grif sighed. Maybe he should at least try to not make too many enemies. Who knows? Maybe one day that idiot Tucker here would save his ass because he remembered they had a friendly chat once.  
  
So he reached and shook Tucker’s hand briefly.

  
“Dexter Grif. You can just call me Grif, that’s what everyone does. “

  
“Well, nice to meet you, Grif. “Tucker smirked at him. “Any ideas what they feed us here? It always smells and tastes like my grandma’s socks. “

Grif now can’t help but chuckle and made a gesture at his bowl of grey-ish looking oatmeal.  
“I know right?! I think they want to poison us before we even get the chance to get out there! “  
  
“That’s how they sort out the weak ones. If you survive their poison and their stupid yelling, you’re ready for the battlefield! “

They both have a good laugh about that.

That Tucker certainly shared the same mindset as him. Grif had always thought that whoever signed up for this shit must be either desperate like himself, or a crazy military loving idiot. So far Tucker gives him the impression that he was part of the former.  
And someone who was not manipulated enough by military propaganda to realize what a shitshow this really was, could only be a good guy in his books.

....  
Maybe one friend wouldn’t hurt.

  
—  
  
As it turned out Tucker was in a different group.

They had been separated on A, B, C and D. While B used the jungle gym to train, C got to use the field to jog again and A had to learn how to shoot in the shooting range and so on and so forth.  
  
So while Grif had to suffer another run - this time loaded with a heavy backpack to simulate running during a mission with gear on his back - Tucker was more lucky and got to shoot his rifle.  
  
Surely, Grif thought, this stupid running would be easier to bare if he had someone to chat with. But of course he was not that lucky

The sun was mercilessly shining down on them, making sweat run down his back where his uniform and the backpack met against his overheated skin.

He could feel his lungs burning and his knees ache in agony.

God, how much he hated running.

And of course he was the last one again. He couldn’t even see the group ahead of him anymore.  
  
Eventually Grif decided that this was not worth it and started to walk instead. Fuck that. He was not willing to suffer a heatstroke for this.

He walked past one of the mountains that they always ran by each day and turned around the corner to a bridge.

He knew that they went this way, because this was the 7th day in a row they had to take this path.  
  
So no need to stress that he would not find his group anymore, Grif thought to himself.  
  
The stupid helmet they had to wear during these exercises wasn’t making this anymore easy either.  
They had explained that this would be the same kind they would be wearing outside on the battlefield. It would not only protect their heads, but also supply them with enough oxygen and the visor functioned as a navigation system as well.

It also had a clock. Which seemed utterly useless to Grif. Why would you need to check the time on the battlefield?

His training helmet smelled badly of years and years of rookies sweating their asses off inside of it. It was leaving him a little queasy.

It was also rather dirty, and a stain slightly annoyed his vision.

He sighed and walked up to the bridge he had to cross. Only to stop on his tracks, because he now spotted one of his team.

The guy was on his knees, shaking and breathing heavily, right in the middle of the bridge.  
  
Grif rolled his eyes, but then decided it was a well enough excuse why he had stayed behind for so long.  
  
“You okay there, buddy?“ He asked, his voice sounding foreign and weird to him through the helmet.  
  
Before he could even reach the other man, the guy reached for his own helmet and quickly takes it off - only to immediately use it like a bucket, puking his heart out right into it.  
  
“Yikes.“ Grif mumbled to himself, but then shrugged and walked up even closer. “I‘m Grif by the way.“ He tired, thinking that if anybody asked the other man, he at least knew who helped him by name.  
  
Of course he got no answer to that, but just another gagging sound, followed by equally nasty noises as the other soldier continued to empty his stomach into the helmet.  
  
Unsure what to do, Grif just awkwardly stood there, waiting for the man to finish. While he would rather not look at what was happening at this very moment, Grif couldn’t help but notice the other rookies face.

Mostly because he had never seen anyone so equally pale and sun burned at the same time. Where the man’s skin wasn’t red from the sun, it was covered in freckles.

Glancing up to his buzzcut, Grif could faintly make out the red tone of the guys hair. No wonder he was so badly burned if he was a ginger in the bright and hot afternoon sun.  
Poor sod.

  
After what felt like forever, the man finally stopped gagging and instead took deep breaths to calm himself down. The pale fingers were gripping the ruined helmet so tightly, his knuckles were white.  
  
“You better now?“ Grif asked, sounding slightly amused.

  
“... Yeah...“ The redhead mumbled quietly, sitting down on the ground and making a face when glancing down to the helmet, that was now nothing but a bucket full of puke.

“I bet they make you clean that up and then use it again.“ Grif shrugged, crossing his arms.  
  
“... Probably.“ Ginger sounded pretty defeated about that and adds an explanation: “Heights make me ill. I... looked down the bridge. I’m such an idiot. “

  
Grif snorted and shrugged again. “Agreed. That was stupid. Come on - get up. Or sergeant assholes head will explode if we need any longer.“

Ginger looked up, eyes still wet from the exhaustion of forcing his breakfast back up his body and generally looking pretty miserable.

He took a deep breath then, pushing himself to his feet.

“Thank you for waiting with me.“

Grif made a click with his tongue and shakes his head. He doesn’t like to get thanks for that. Not when his motive had been just to make his own ass look a little better.  
He reached for his own helmet and takes it off, because he starts feeling like he was cooking alive inside.  
  
“I’m Richard, by the way. Richard Simmons. “Ginger then seemingly remembered that Grif had introduced himself earlier and now tried to repay the favour.

Oh, this was glorious.

  
Grif immediately snorted a laugh, smirking. Richard, hm?

“Wait... so your name is... _Dick_? I’m gonna piss myself, that’s amazing! “

Simmons face took another shade of red, this time not caused by the sun, and glared at Grif before he lifted his chin and puffed out his chest a little.

“Yeah? You got a problem with that? “

Grif, who always had been quiet decent reading people, could tell this little talk-back had cost Simmons a good amount of bravery. Ridiculous, he thought, what a coward.  
  
“Nope. “He chuckled, “I think it’s fucking hilarious. “He turned around and starts walking off the bridge.  
“Come on, Dick. And don’t look down the damn bridge again.“

Grif can hear Simmons make an angry little noise and then his footsteps following him.  
  
“I was first place.“ Simmons then quietly grumbled after a while of walking, his used helmet-bucket still in both hands.

“Huh?“ Grif walked a little bit ahead of the other man and now turned to raise an eyebrow at him. “Who cares? “

  
“Me! “Simmons all but hissed, “I care! I want to be good at this! But I never am! I always fuck up somehow... “His angry voice fainted into an anxious tiny voice towards the end.  
  
Grif turned away again, so he was looking ahead, and raised his hands in a giving-up motion.  
“Alright, dude. Do what you want. But I think you need to chill a little. “  
This Simmons seemed to be the other kind of people here. The military lovers. The kind that wants to actually do this because they see a joy in this theatre that might get them killed.  
Grif was immediately assuming that Simmons was probably from some rich kind of family, with a life full of opportunities. And he still chose this.

Idiot.  
  
“How can you be so calm about this?!“Simmons continued, “If this was an actual battle, we would be dead now! Don’t you want to get good at this? “

“Eh, being good is relative. “

“That doesn’t make any sense. It’s not! You must work hard and-”

“Grif! Simmons!“ The voice of their sergeant echoes towards them and just a blink of an eye later they spot them on the horizon.

“Where the hell where you? Why are you walking?! Explain yourself, soldiers!“ Ever the angry yell. Grif could see some spit leaving his mouth while he yelled at them. Yum.  
  
“Dick here had a bit of an accident-”

  
“Sir!“ Simmons‘ loud voice interrupted Grif‘s. “I got sick, Sir! Grif waited for me and supported me. I apologize and this shall never happen again, Sir!“

 _Yikes_ what a kissass, Grif thought to himself.

  
The sergeant grumbled quietly and shook his head.

“Simmons, you go to sickbay now!“

“Yes, sir!“

“And tomorrow, you and Grif come at 400 and run the whole way again!“

  
“What?!“ Grif yelped in shock, eyes wide. “Four in the Morning?! Why am I getting punished for helping someone?!“

He could see the slight grin on the sergeant´s face. Asshole. Grif knew that he wasn’t the man’s favourite by far, but this was just cruel.

“It’s not punishment. It’s a chance to steel your bodies with some extra training and it’s required of you to run this way a certain amount of times. So, stop complaining, rookie! Off to the shooting range with you and Simmons off to the nurse!“

And with these words the sergeant walked off towards the shooting range himself.  
  
“Un-fucking-believable!“ Grif cursed, throwing his helmet into the grass in frustration. He turned towards Simmons and raised a finger at him. “This is your fault, you kissass! I can’t believe this!“  
  
Simmons lifted his chin a little and threw Grif an unimpressed glare.

  
“The sergeant is right, you know? This is a chance to steel our bodies. And you definitely need it.“  
“Oh a fat joke, very clever.“ Grif sneered, “Fuck you, dude. Fuck you and your sensitive stomach.“  
  
The military-lover dudes were just not the kind of people that Grif should surround himself with.  
So screw that dude.

He turned and stomped off towards the shooting range, not checking anymore if Simmons actually makes his way towards the nurses office.

  
——  
  
“This fucking sucks!“

“I’ve heard it the first twenty times you complained.“

The sun wasn’t even up yet, everything was pretty dark and only slightly illuminated by a few lamps here and there. It was still freezing cold — this place had the bad habit of being the worst of both sides: freezing cold at night and baking hot during the day — and despite that Grif could feel sweat on his forehead, slowly running down towards his jaw.

As ordered, him and that idiot Simmons were forced to run the same track as yesterday, only at a time that was certainly ungodly.

Of course that brainwashed bootlicker was going at it with enthusiasm and joy, running at a decent speed and not even breaking out in a sweat.

“Why don’t we slow down? Come on, it’s not like he is taking our time right now!“ Grif tried again.  
Their sergeant had made it his own responsibility to kick them both out of bed at four in the morning, but then he went off, explaining that he was waiting for them at the finish line.  
  
What bullshit. Grif was sure that the guy was probably sitting inside a warm, comfortable room right now, slurping his coffee.

This was not, like Simmons liked to stress out, about giving them extra training. This was just humiliation, nothing more.

Simmons actually stopped for a moment, dead in his tracks and puts his hands in his hips, turning to Grif to address him with his full frustration:

“What is your problem? Why are you even here if you hate this so much?“

Grif stopped as well, bending over and putting his hands above his knees to catch his breath. His lungs were burning, and his legs felt weak. He needed a long moment before he had enough air again to answer Simmons.

“Why am I here? None of your business.“ Grif then huffed, still feeling the burn in his lungs.  
He felt like he owed this kissass no answers. They just happened to be in the same boat right now and he couldn’t wait to get really far away from that guy in future.

“You’re being a massive dickhead.“ Simmons growled annoyed in his direction. “I don’t even know why you bothered waiting up for me yesterday.”

“Yeah, I start having regrets about that as well.”

Simmons shook his head and turned away again to keep on running. Grif felt like he heard the man mumble to himself. Something about how this would never happen in Starfleet.  
  
No, he must have misheard that. Because that would be an awful silly thing to say to yourself, except if you were a massive nerd.

And if - if! - Grif had heard that right, he would be obligated to call bullshit on that.  
No Kirk without Spock being a dickhead to him as well. That was like the basic conflict of the early seasons. Tsk

Kissass and a fake fan. Glorious.

  
—  
  
The only free time the rookie soldiers were allowed to have was a few hours before they were forced to go sleep.

It was Grif’s only highlight of the day.

He met up with that Tucker guy again, sitting in a quiet corner and having a smoke together. He came to enjoy Tuckerˋs company quite a bit. He was just a chill as him, not seeing the sense of extra work or that ridiculous military code.

It often felt like a relieve to him to be able to rant with someone who agreed.  
  
“... And then he told me to shoot again! Can you believe that? Poor Jimmy probably pissed his pants!“  
  
Tucker took a drag of his cigarette and chuckled a little, which made the smoke leave his mouth in little puffs.

“Probably yeah.“ He nodded, “This is all a massive shit show. I imagined it would be bad, but this is beyond anything I could have imagined.“

Grif sighed deeply and leaned back against the stone wall behind him. He thought about Kai, wondering if he should write her a letter soon and tell her about how things were going here.  
  
“Why are you here?“ He then asked Tucker, turning his head to study the man’s profile. Grif couldn’t help but notice the handsome jawline and long lashes on the other man. He wouldn’t be surprised if Tucker was quite popular back at home.

“Welp.“ Tucker made the letter p pop a little as he spoke, shrugging, “Gotta have a future somehow, right? College is way too expensive for me, but hey! The chicks dig soldiers, if you know what I mean.“ He smirked.

Grif snorted a laugh, looking away again.

“So you got no girlfriend at home?“

“Nah. I’m enjoying my freedom, man. How about you? Any little lady waiting at home?“  
  
Grif snorted, pretty amused about the question. “Nope. Not playing for that team. If you know what I mean.“ A brief pause, before he added: “Got my sister waiting for me though.“  
  
“Oh!“ Tucker perked up at that. “Is she hot?“

Grif immediately raised a warning finger at Tucker and glared at him: “Don’t you even think about that!“  
  
“Dude, if she falls for my charm, that’s on her.“

“If you touch her I have to murder you.“ Grif warned again, but then huffed and turned away from Tucker. There was no way he would ever meet Kai anyway. She was safe and would stay home. Unlike himself and Tucker. Grif briefly wondered where they would end up one day.  
  
The thing about their free hours before they were forced to go to bed was, that it usually was over more quickly than Grif would like it.

A few relaxing moments, just chilling with Tucker and resting his tired bones.. and then it was already over.  
  
Grif wondered if he could do this. Actually survive a fight against those aliens that threatened the human settlements?

Maybe he was not strong enough. Not brave enough.

Only time would tell

—  
  
  
The running, the shooting, the getting yelled at - That all was nothing compared to that little surprise work-out that was waiting for them that night.

  
At 2.30 am Grif’s favourite asshole sergeant burst into their shared sleeping room, yelling at them from the top of his lungs for them to get up.

An now him and his group were outside, in the dark and freezing cold, dressed in combat gear, while rain pours down on them like buckets.

It was miserable.

Their sergeant had explained that in a real-life battle situation, there would be no full night’s sleep, nor was there always daylight.

While some part of Grif had to agree with that idea, he still was cursing the ever-loving fuck out of this torture.

He was soaking wet, shaking in his boots from the cold and his lungs were already ready to give up. Because of course they had to run an obstacle course.

He could barely see with rain hitting his eyes and the darkness.

Grif unhappily hopped over some tires that were placed on the ground, ignoring a belly robber, because _fuck that_ , only to find himself in front of a wooden, inclining wall he was supposed to climb up.  
  
With the pouring rain the wood was slippery and it looked impossibly high. Grif shook his head, already calling it quits. He would simply walk around this, nobody had to know he skipped this.  
  
Just when he turned to walk around a head poked over the edge on top of the climbable wall.  
  
“Grif!“ he recognized the voice immediately: Simmons.

“What do you want?!“ Grif couldn’t help but hiss angrily upwards. His politeness died when he was kicked out of bed and forced into the cold rain to do sport.

“Come on!“ Simmons called and stretched out his arm towards Grif on the ground. “I help you up! Grab my hand!“

For a moment Grif wondered if he was already imagining things. If he hit his head or if the cold was getting to his mental state. Why would this nerd stop to help him?

  
“Have you lost your mind?“ Grif instead called up to him, “Aren’t you losing your precious first place? What are you doing?!“

“You stopped for me when I was in trouble, now I repay the favour! Come on, stop complaining and take my fucking hand!“

“I don’t need your help!“ No, he didn’t want Simmons to repay him.

  
“Take my fucking hand, fatass!“

  
“Go screw yourself, nerd!“

“Will you just take my hand, or do you want to freeze to death here?!“

Grif contemplated just following his original plan to walk around the wall, but he couldn’t help but feel a little touched that Simmons stayed behind for him. Now they would surely both come in last.  
Damn it.

This was exactly why Grif didn’t want to care for anyone here. This was exactly the reason.

He could still turn around too. He could refuse this helping hand and just go about his day.

“God fucking damnit.“ He muttered to himself instead and before he could overthink it, reached for the stretched-out hand, clasping it tightly and even did an effort to get upwards.

With Simmons pulling him – huffing, puffing and grunting in the process – and himself pushing upwards, Grif eventually managed to come out on top of the climbable wall.

Both men immediately fell to their knees on top of the very tiny space between the two wooden, climbable pieces.

“You are so-” Simmons started but has to stopped himself for a few puffs of breath “- fucking heavy. What do you eat? Butter and stones?“

“Very funny har har.“ Grif grumbles, equally as breathless. “Nobody asked you to do this, you know that right?“

“But I wanted to. Paying back a favour.“

“Then stop complaining!“

Simmons all but glared at him, raising his middle finger at him in the process.

Grif could see now how the rain had left Simmons equally as miserable looking. The man was even more pale than usual, looking like he was freezing, and the eye bags were bigger than ever before. The darkness of early dawn was not doing Simmons any favours to hide that.

At least they could probably agree on hating everything about this situation.

Simmons made a tiny grunt in the back of his throat and got himself back up to his feet with heavy limbs, looking utterly exhausted.

“We need to keep going.“ He urged Grif and held out a hand for him again to help him up one final time.

Grif wanted nothing more but to slap it away and tell that asshole to stick his help where the sun doesn´t shine.

But he really had no spite or energy left in himself for that, so instead he just settles with getting up by himself without even acknowledging the hand in front of him.

In the corner of his eyes Grif can see that Simmons rolled his eyes about that. Yeah, take that nerd.

As it turned out getting down the climbable wall wasn’t as much of a problem, since gravity gladly helped you out with that.

With just a hop both found themselves back on solid ground.

Nobody was even watching this. This was the one thing Grif hated the most: Senseless effort.

For the first time since he had signed up for Basic Training it hit Grif with the full force of suppressed consequences:

He could be home right now. With Kai. With Mom. He could be still sleeping and only worry about what would be for lunch.

For a moment all the reasons why he had left in the first place seemed small and silly. And like a hole in a tender fabric that just ripped more and more when you pull on it, Grif let the bone crushing regret set in.

He had given up his home for this.

For ice cold rain, stupid pointless runs, strict rules, stupid buzzcuts and annoying, nerdy teammates.  
Grif chose this. He wanted this. And right now, he wished for nothing more than to undo it.

  
  
“Dude.“ Simmons´ voice sounded really far away for a moment. “Dude? Hey.“ The other rookie soldier waved his hand in front of Grifs face to get his attention.

“You there? Come on let´s get going. We`re probably last place already.“

The rain had one good thing going for it: Grif could expect it to cover the burning sting in his eyes.

Of course they had reached the goal last and when Grif could spot their, as usual pretty pissed off looking, sergeant, the sun was already raising and slowly pushing away the heavy rainclouds that had been their company for the whole run.

“Of course dumb and dumber are last place.“ The sergeant yelled at them when they were close enough. “You two are good for nothing! Off to the showers with you! I expect you to do better or I will have to seriously think about what I do with you useless pussies!“

That military tactic of pushing down your ego, offend you, yell at you and make you small, had simply no effect on Grif. He could not care less if that asshole or anyone else called him a pussy or a failure.  
In a way he was used to this and simply never took it personal.

But just one glance at Simmons and Grif knew that the ginger was a completely different story.  
  
As they made their way down the harshly lid hallway, towards the showers which promised them to get warmed up in no time, Grif simply decided to ignore Simmons´ sour expression and his annoyed sighs.  
  
Honestly, he thought, this wasn’t his problem.

Simmons had made the decision to stay back and help him and now he had to pay the price. He better learns from this and never do it again.

By now most of the other rookies had already moved on to breakfast and they had the shower room practically for themselves.

They were soaked to the bone and Grif lost no time to get out of these clothes and under a warm stream of water.

Shame was something not known to the Grif family, so he walked naked and unbothered through the room until blissful warm hit his skin.

Well, of course, not exactly boiling hot water, more of a lukewarm piss from above, but at this point Grif was not picky.

He barely realized that Simmons was not immediately behind him and took his sweet ass time to get undressed.  
Maybe he was shy about this, but Grif thought that military was the least ideal place to be shy about anything, especially your own body.

They all were practically sitting on each other 24/7 and privacy was a thing of the past.

With the mildly warm water Grifs body starts to feel like itself again and the earlier regrets and gloom were now nothing but a faint itch. Not that he didn’t sill have these thoughts; he simply was able to successfully repress them again.

He allowed himself to close his eyes, especially since moments of alone time were rare and precious. Simmons would surely join him any minute now.

When the minute dragged on a bit longer, Grif started to wonder what was holding Simmons up so long. Wasn’t he cold and wet too?

Only then did Grif realize that he could hear faint voices speaking from the locker room that lead into the showers itself.

Three male voices, in fact. And they sounded especially cheerful – In a way that promised trouble.  
  
He should stay out of this, Grif thought to himself.

This was none of his business.

They were done.

He had helped Simmons and now Simmons had made the stupid mistake to help him in return.  
  
There was a loud crash.

And the three voices started laughing in that one way that left no doubt they were laughing about someone.

Grif rubbed his face, water still pouring down on him.

Holy shit, what had he gotten himself into? He had sworn he would not care about anyone.  
It was a solid plan! Don´t get too close with someone, because they would either be put into a different unit, or a completely different planet – or literally get killed in battle. Grif didn´t want to and could not afford to get attached. It was a bill he was not willing to pay.

And yet here he was, on the edge of getting involved in trouble because of some stupid military loving nerd.  
Curse his secretly soft heart.

Unhappily Grif stepped away from the water and grabbed a towel to wrap around his hips. He couldn´t be bothered to cover up any more than that, because it just didn´t seem important to him.  
  
With wet, naked feet he walked casually over to the changing room, still hearing those mocking voices and laughter.

It came to no surprise to Grif, that he found Simmons on the floor with a bleeding nose and an eye slowly swelling shut, while three other rookie soldiers were standing above him.  
  
Those three were faces that Grif had seen briefly before. He believes that they were part of Tuckers squad, but he had not met them before or even knew their name.  
It honestly didn’t matter either way.

“Good morning, gentlemen.“ Grif made himself known with a calm, bored sounding voice. “What’s the situation here?”

While Simmons gives him all but a panicked and confused look, the three bullies exchanged glances with each other and then proceeded to glare angrily at the newcomer.  
  
“None of ya business.“ The tallest one hisses and points towards the door that would lead out into the hallway.  
“Ya better fuck off and no word to anyone!“

Grif sighed heavily and rolled his eyes – Not at them, but at himself. He should just take that advice and leave. This was honestly none of his concern.

And yet, he didn’t move. #

“Welp.“ He started, popping the ´p´ loudly and shrugging. “I fear I can´t do that. How about you guys do that instead and we call it a day?“

Again, the bullies exchange a look and now turn their bodies towards Grif, giving him their full attention.  
“Seems like fatass here wants some attention of his own, don’t ya think boys?“  
  
Grif quickly figured the biggest, tallest – and probably meanest – of them functioned as their leader and it would be him that Grif needed to convince to leave… With his words or his fists.  
_Jeez_ , he really wasn´t in the mood for this. This was work, pain and trouble he didn’t sign up for. Especially not after running in the cold for so long.

But when the first one of them came running and swinging his fist towards his face, Grif had no choice left anymore.

“Watch out...!!“ He heard Simmons´ voice, but only faintly, because he quickly ducked down with a yelp.  
Maybe he should have bothered to put on more than a towel.

“Listen guys – we really don’t have to do th-!“ Grif tried to reason with the bullies, but quickly got interrupted with a fist meeting his cheek.

The pain knocked the breath out of his lungs, making him stumble backwards and nearly fall on the slightly wet floor.

He heard his ears ringing and the dull throbbing of his cheek ached right into his skull.  
  
Before he even got a chance to think about this, another bully comes at him, trying to grab his arms. It doesn’t take a genius to figure that they probably want to pin him in place and give him a good beating for daring to speak up to them.

Having a rough idea what was going to happen, gave Grif the advantage to stumble backwards on purpose this time, avoid being grabbed and to reach for a boot that was by his feet.  
Before the bully could process what had happened, he was greeted with said boot smacked into his face.  
  
“Take that motherfucker!“ Grif yells out in triumph, but the words quickly turned into regret, when another bully storms him and this time managed to grab him from behind – pulling Grifs arms behind himself and locking him into place.

“Let go of me…!“

Their leader walked over to him with a grin that Grif would love to wipe off his face, chuckling and aiming his fist for the first time.

First it connected with Grifs stomach, knocking him breathless and feeling like he had to puke. But there was no time to dwell on that feeling.

The next one hits his nose, making an awful noise that promised it was broken in an instant.  
  
Grif saw white, painful stars in front of his eyes and he could tell his nose started to fill with blood.  
“I-” Whatever he wanted to say, it died in his throat. The pain was already all too present.  
  
Only then did he hear Simmons´ roar and when the leader aimed for another hit – it never came.  
Instead he yelped in surprise with Simmons now mounting his back, trying to get him into a chokehold from behind.

“Get off of me, you fucker!!“ Leader roared in anger, struggling to reach for the ginger on his back.  
The sudden attack had the other two bullies stunned in surprise for a moment as well, giving Grif the chance to wiggle free from their hands.

“Now you guys are done for...!“ Grif managed to get out, despite not having any air or will to go on, left in his body.

He raised his fist, ready to pay back, when another voice echoes in the locker room.  
  
“What in god’s name is going on here?!“

One of the sergeants stand with her hands on her hips, combat boots shiny and expression beyond pissed off.

“Miller! Frank! Grif! Goldstein! Simmons! All five of you! Immediately to the nurse and then in my office! This will have serious consequences! We`re not in kindergarten here! You will regret the moment you opened your eyes this morning! I will have you clean the toilets for the rest of the month! Off with you!“ She points towards the hallway, her voice leaving no doubt they were all in massive trouble.  
  
It didn’t seem fair to Grif. Maybe they would get a chance to explain.  
But given how he got to know the structures of military so far, there was not much hope. They would not care about who started and why.

In fact, he barely got the chance to get into his pants, before the sergeant urged them to leave and go see the nurse again.

His nose was blocked with blood, his stomach hurt, his face felt swollen. And why? Because he had to be stupid and try to help a guy, who probably couldn’t even stand him.  
  
Great work Dexter, he thought angrily, really great work.

He should have stuck to not giving a damn.

\-------------------------------  
  
The three bullies were sent into one of the offices first. Probably to get the lecture of their lifetime.  
Grif honestly hoped at least one of them would wet his pants in fear.  
  
Meanwhile he was forced to sit on an uncomfortable chair in some brightly lit hallway and wait for his own turn.

Next to him was Simmons, who looked like absolute hell.  
The skin around his left eye was dark purple by now and so swollen that he could probably not see a thing.  
His nose, now stuffed with a cotton ball in each hole, looked bright red and was probably still bleeding. His lip had cracked open and had to be fixed with two stitches.

But Grif himself only looked somewhat better. His nose was broken and now fitted a white plastic support that would help it to not get deformed. He had at least as much cotton in it, if not more than Simmons and one of the hits had managed to crack open his eyebrow – three stitches.  
  
Wonderful.  
Just peachy.

“… Thank you by the way…“ Simmons quietly muttered into the dead silence of the hallway.  
  
“Oh, fuck off.“ Grif grumbled, crossing his arms stubbornly and leaning back in the uncomfortable plastic chair. “I should have stayed out of this.“

Simmons made a sound that might have been a grunt if his nose wasn’t blocked.  
“But you didn’t. … Stay out of it, I mean. So just take my thanks.“

Grif glanced over to the other man.

He could see that Simmons was a ginger much better now, because his buzz cut started to grow out a little. It was a nice shade of red, even though it made him look very pale. Or maybe that was just the harsh light.

They would probably cut it short soon again. Stupid military regulation.  
  
“Alright. You could also pay me back with some beer or something.“ Grif shrugged. He wouldn’t mind a beer or two. Not after a day like this. … Hell, it was only 8 am. The day technically hasn’t even started yet.  
  
“And where the fuck am I supposed to get some beer from?“ Simmons´ voice got higher pitched in his irritation. If the circumstances were any different, Grif would find it adorable.  
  
“That’s your problem, not mine. You owe me one.“ Of course Grif was aware that alcohol was forbidden on the training grounds. But honestly, people smuggled all kinds of things in here: Weed, Porn, Vodka... he has seen it all already.

He could hear Simmons sigh deeply and the chair under him croaking with his weight as he leaned back in it.

“Alright, alright. Fine.“ The ginger grumbled then, “I guess I do owe you something. Let’s not make this a habit. I thought I payed you back today already.“

“Yeah let’s not.“ Grif could only agree. He wasn’t too eager to get involved in that guys business so quickly again. He honestly should have just not taken the dudes hand earlier. He could be at breakfast now.  
But at the same time Grif understood that that would be a fucking lie to himself. Sure, he loved to pretend he doesn’t care about anyone or anything – Not his mother, not his sister, surely not the stupid military system and defiantly not any of the other rookies here – but deep down the guilt and fear of being all alone and having no one was eating him up.

Deep down he knew that if he pushed everyone away, he would just go insane by himself. Also, as much as he loved to pretend, he was an asshole with no heart, his heart was way too big for his own good. He would have hated himself, if he just stood and let Simmons get roughed up by these guys.

“What the hell did you do to those assholes anyway?“ Grif might as well ask. It didn’t seem like they would be out of his hallway anytime soon.

Another annoyed and deep sigh from Simmons was all Grif got for a few moments, before the other rookie finally started to explain:

“Earlier this week I reported them for having porn magazines in their room. I found it next to their bunks. It... was just there?!“ His voice got a little squeaky as he said that. “I… Its forbidden to have any? They were breaking the rules! So I reported them.“

Grif could not believe what he was hearing there.

Great. Just great.

So he payed with a broken nose for an absolute stuck-up and snitch. A brown-nosing military loving, snitching nerd.

Wonderful.  
  
“Dude.“ Grif shook his head. “You´re an asshole.“

  
“Pardon?! I am not! These are the rules! I am just enforcing a rule that THEY broke!“ By now Simmons was practically yelling at Grif.

“Besides, if anything, those bastards did not deserve any better. They constantly mock Susan for her looks, call her awful names!“ Only then did the rookie quiet down again. “And make fun of Markus. He`s from Venus, you know? They make fun of his accent.“

Grif couldn’t help but a be a little stunned at that. Maybe a snitching, military loving nerd… But not so much a bad person after all.

What a pain.

“Anyway.“ Simmons perked up a little, voice going up again as did his anger. “These assholes broke the rules, I reported on them. Surely the sergeant will thank me for that eventually!“  
  
____________________________

It took all but three hours to get fixed up, wait in the hallway and then get yelled at.  
  
How they have broken rules.

How they should have been the bigger men.

How this was not acceptable behaviour…

_Bla bla bla._

Grif could not care less.

They were sent on their way to catch up with their respective squads and line into the training for today. Luckily, and for once, they were spared a punishment – Unlike the bullies, who were now on toilet cleaning duty for the rest of the week... And today was taco Tuesday. Hell yeah.

At the end of this awful, awful long day, Grif felt so bone tired that he could barely force down his dinner.  
And Dexter Grif was never too tired to eat.

He sighed and poked his fork into the mashed potatoes, that tasted an awful lot like wet paper, as he saw someone sitting down next to him in the corner of his eyes.  
  
“Hey Tucker.“ He muttered tiredly, not bothering to look at the other man properly.  
  
“Jesus, dude. You look like hell. What the fuck happened to you?“ Tucker sounded a bit too amused to come off as honestly worried.

Before Grif even got the chance to explain, another person sits down at their table – This time in front of him.

Rolling his eyes and groaning in annoyance, Grif pointed his fork at the new person joining them.  
“He happened. Nothing but fucking trouble.“

“Hel.. Hello.“ Simmons´ voice sounded a bit nervous. “I think we`re in the same squad. I`m Richard Simmons.“  
  
An introduction that Tucker gladly ignored. Instead he kept on facing Grif and started to laugh in a clearly mocking way.

“Wait – You got your nose broken over that idiot?“ To Tucker it was clear what happened to Grif`s nose, since the way it was fixed up spoke for itself.

“Are you insane? He`s no good, dude.“

“Excuse me?“

Again ignoring Simmons, Grif groaned again and sat up a little more so he could face Tucker.  
“I never said I made a smart choice, ok? And now he owes me a beer, so I would say it was worth it.“  
  
Simmons threw his hands up in frustration upon being treated like he wasn`t really there.  
“Yes, and that’s why I`m here to talk to you!“ He hissed across the table in frustration.  
  
Then, and only then, did Grif actually bother to look at the man.

“Really? You got me some beer? That was quick.“

“Not… Not so loud!“ Again Simmons hissed and looked around to check if anyone was listening to them.  
“I can`t believe you made me do this. I`m such a hypocrite right now. … But yes. Yes, I got some for you.“  
  
“Sweet! Where is it?“ Tucker answered for Grif, but promptly gets playfully pushed away.  
  
“Nope – I got my nose broken for this. It’s my beer alone.“ Grif insisted.  
  
“Let´s meet up at 900. You know the rooftop over the gym by the nurse`s office?“

“Really? We gotta make this a big and secret thing? It`s just beer, dude. Not cocaine.“  
  
“Do you want the beer or not?“ Simmons crossed his arms again, looking pretty pissed by now. But as far as Grif could tell: When was he NOT looking pissed? That seemed to be the guys default state.  
  
“Alright, alright.“ Grif raised both of his hands in defeat. “I´ll be there, Mr. James Bond.“

Again, Grif couldn’t help but feel like he was walking right into trouble. The bad luck just seemed to follow that guy wherever he went.

But he would be caught dead if he missed out on his price for all that annoying work he had done today.  
  
_____

The breeze was cold tonight and the stars were already painting the night sky in a freckled face.  
Not unlike the freckled face Grif was supposed to meet soon.

He got here a little early, simply because it was a place of calm and quiet. No one would bother to come here that late.

He brought his cigarettes and calmly smoked one – then another.

Watching the night sky reminded him painfully of home. He used to watch it with Kai when she was a little younger than she is today. He would explain all the different stars to her, their names and what they meant.

He would make up a fake story if he didn`t know anything, because it was just so sweet to see her little face light up in wonder.

God, he missed her so much.

The squeak of a door announced that someone was joining him on the roof after a while.  
Grif didn’t bother to turn around when he heard the footsteps approaching him.  
  
“I… I got your stuff.“ Simmons`s voice explained quietly behind him. The nerd was still acting like this was a massive, secret mission. It was not like everyone was drinking here… Or looking at porn. Grif could frankly understand why the bullies were so upset with Simmons.  
  
“Cool.“ Grif shrugged his shoulders and then pointed besides him. “Sit down. Have one with me.“  
  
Maybe it was him feeling homesick. Maybe it was the magic of the night sky making him a little soft.  
But he would enjoy some company now.

“What…? Are you…? Really?“ To Grifs surprise Simmons sounded mostly excited, if unsure about his offer. Maybe he wasn`t as stuck up as Grif had assumed he was.

“Sure. Come on. Sit down.“

There was a little bit of shuffling noises, before Simmons then let himself sink down next to Grif on the ground. They were sitting behind a smaller maintains building on the roof – surely only stuff like fuse boxes in there – and were a little bit hidden from view, should anyone come up here.  
  
Simmons fumbled with the six-pack he organised and then held out a can for Grif.  
  
“Huh? That’s European beer?? Dude.“ Grif all but snatched the can in question out of Simmons` hand. “Where the hell did you get that from??“

Simmons looked all but a little bashful about that, just shrugged and took a can for himself.  
“I have my sources.“

Honestly, Grif didn’t even care that much. He quickly opened the can and drank away the beer that bubbled to the top quickly from shaking it a little too much.  
“Fuck yeah, this is amazing!“ He couldn’t help but cheer in delight over the fresh and, surprisingly cool beer.  
  
“Guess we`re even now.“ Simmons smirked a little to himself, before opening his own can and catching the beer that also bubbled to the top upon opening it.

“If you have more of that, I guess I have to get involved with your bullshit a little more often.“ Which was a joke. Grif would gladly never see that idiot ever again in his life. One wrecked nose was enough for a lifetime.

Simmons made a little sound in the back of his throat, looking up to the night sky. Grif wondered if he had accidentally embarrassed the nerd. But the guy seemed to get embarrassed and angry about everything.  
  
“So“ Grif then said, when Simmons simply didn`t comment on his statement. “Why are you here?“  
  


“Here? I mean… It’s a bit of a mystery-”

“No, I mean the army. This rookie camp. Why did you sign up?“

“Oh.“ Simmons took another sip of his beer, mulling over the question. “I think I was made for this. I think I was meant to be here; you know?“

“Not really.“ Grif made a face like he bit into something sour.

“I mean, that I could really climb the ranks, become the leader of a squad and make a serious difference. I could inspire young men and women to become the best version of themselves! I could…“ Simmons stopped, eyes never leaving the sky.

“You know. My dad has always been in the military. As has my grandpa. We Simmons men were just meant to be here. Its destiny, I guess.“

“Yikes.“ Grif chuckled, “That`s a lame destiny.“

“Alright. Then why are you here?“ Simmons grumbled, now glaring over at Grif. The sparse natural light made Simmons` pale skin look like he was made of porcelain… Or starlight. Yikes. Kitschy.  
“You seem to hate everything about this? Why would you even bother?“  
  
Grif rubbed the back of his neck, thinking about how to answer this. It was true: He didn`t want to be here. But the alternative was worse. But he was not too fond of telling that to a guy that he barely knew.  
“Uh… I was drafted.“ He lied, shrugging.

“Nonsense. Drafting is a thing of the past.“

“I shit you not. First draft ever in over 200 years. I guess I´m just mighty unlucky.“ It was.. a weak excuse. To say the least. But it would stop any unwanted questions.

Simmons stared at him for a tiny moment, as if to figure out if Grif was telling the truth or not. But then after a moment, he just shrugs.

“Alright. That is very unlucky indeed.“

Grif was not sure if Simmons just didn`t want to bother to ask further, or if he actually was that easy to convince. But he wasn’t complaining.

This was a strange moment for Grif. Hadn’t he sworn to not bond with anyone? Let alone a military loving kiss-ass? Life truly was weird sometimes.

But he had to admit that this was rather… nice. The cold wind on his skin, the beer in hand and yes, even the company was nice for now.

“We will soon be sent out; did you know that?“ Simmons muttered then after a moment of comfortable silence.

“What??“ Grif`s eyes widen in surprise and he stared at Simmons, wondering if he was just fucking with him. This couldn’t be true. They were here for a few weeks only!  
  
“I`ve heard it from my dad. He called just to rub it in my face.“ Simmons sighs heavily. “Insiders say the attacks got worse. We lost too many men in our colonies. We need back-up.“  
  
“So they decide to send in the rookies? For what? Meat-shields?“ Grif hated how his voice broke over this.  
This… scared him. Sure, he had signed up for this. But now that he was confronted with the reality of going to actual war, he felt his feet getting a little cold.

“We are ready.“ Simmons gave him a little smile, but he looked pretty pale himself. “We can do this. Don`t worry. They would not send us out if they thought we were unprepared.“  
  
Grifs swallowed and shook his head. His eyes went back to the night sky and he couldn’t help but think of Kai and how he was hoping that Simmons was right.

  
They were ready.

They had to be.

Or this would end in a slaughter

Maybe he had made a mistake…

_______  
  
It turned out that Simmons was absolutely right. Only a few days passed, before the groups were called into a big hall and forced to stand parade for one of the higher ups to speak and give them the good news.  
  
“It will be an honour to serve your planet!“ The man kept going on and on about how they should feel glad to be send out into space to fight these aliens. How the colonies needed heroes and they sure as hell were ready to fill these shoes.

Bullshit, Grif thought.

They were no heroes. They were all just young men and women who were deeply afraid. But now there was no turning back.

Just after this speech they would be send out. Several groups were formed and each of them was shipped off to a different planet, space-station, moon or other places that held the human colonies.  
  
Grif found he got somewhat lucky. He would be shipped off to a bigger planet with a city and everything. His work was just to protect the civilians. Chances of an actual attack were rather low – or so he was told.

He only got a brief glimpse of Tucker boarding a different ship than him. Sadly, there was no chance to say goodbye or even know where Tucker was sent to. But Grif had expected that. Hence why he had technically refused to make friends. Because he knew this would happen.  
It sure as hell still stung a little.

When it was time for himself to board a spaceship, he barely managed to look around. Everything happened very fast:

Here, your gear.

Put on your armour and helmet.

Here, your bag.

Don’t lose it.

Don’t get killed.

Off with you into the ship and goodbye.

  
  
It all made Grifs stomach churn a little bit. It was frightening to him.

At least it meant no more morning jogs or shooting range training. Now this was the real deal.  
  
Before the door of the ship closed behind him, he could see the other troops marching to their own ships. All looking the same. Helmet, armour. Faceless men and women.  
  
For a tiny moment he wondered where Simmons was shipped off to. He honestly hoped that he would not get himself killed by playing hero. But the chances were high.

Goodbye rookie camp.

Hello deathly new adventure.


	2. Blood Gulch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The information about what happened to Grif and Simmons before Blood Gulch is from "The ultimate RvB Fanguide". (Except that I took the stories serious and didn´t play it off as a joke. Really RT? That counts as funny?) 
> 
> Thank you for your lovely comments on the last chapter! <3

They gave him new pills. More pills. 

To work with his OCD first. And now to do something against his nightmares.  
PTSD they called it.

Grif had a less nice name for it:

 _‘My-whole-team-and-everyone-on-the-planet-died-while-I-was-taking-a-_ nap’ disease.

That was a much better name.

Grif could still smell the blood when he was trying to fall asleep these days. The pictures of families being slaughtered and now their remains left behind for Grif to find them.

He feels like this would be with him forever now. He would never be able to rest peacefully again. That’s what the army gifted him.

_Thanks a lot._

The ship engines seemed awfully loud. Where were they headed to?

Grif had no idea.

All he knew was that he gladly signed a new contract after what had happened to him and that human settlement.  
_Project Freelancer_ , they had called themselves. That they had an offer for him. A base in some canyon with an assigned team.

Alright. Grif could not care less anymore.

In his view this new team just promised new death and heartbreak – So he swore to himself that he would not get attached to these people.

Just like he had sworn before to never make any friends. He had to protect himself, steel himself. So, this would not cause him another mental scar.

More pills.

More nightmares.

Damn, he needed a smoke.

The ship started to get ready for landing, so Grif put his new helmet on.  
This Project Freelancer had issued him a new standard mission armour. It was painted orange. Which was absolutely silly. Wasn’t armour supposed to give you at least a little bit of camouflage?

Grif was willing to humour this for a while.

They payed him well for this and they promised that no aliens were targeting this planet. All he had to fight was other humans. Peachy.

The ship shook when it made final contact with the ground and all Grif could do for now was walk out of there and greet his new team.

Again, he reminded himself to not mind these people at all. He better not even learn their names. They were meat shields after all.

What did surprise him was the lush green grass he then stepped on and the blue cloudless sky. This was nearly like earth, which was a nice change.

He hadn’t been to earth in 3 years now. He missed Hawaii deeply.

Especially after the slaughter he had to witness just a few weeks ago.

It was hard to not miss the base. The ugly and grim looking building was a stark contrast to the green and beautiful surroundings.

He could also spot a different base, just far enough away to barely see it on the other end of this canyon.  
As far as he understood it, these were his enemies.

The ship took off behind him and left him alone to walk up to his new base.  
Grif had to admit he got a little nervous and he was reminded again of the images of his dead teammates. He prayed to anything and anyone that would listen, that this experience would not repeat itself.  
Shortly before he was close enough to enter his new base, he saw someone running towards him, wearing the same standard issue armour as him – Just this time painted in a deep dark red.  
  
“You must be the new one recruit!” The voice behind the helmet greeted him quickly. “You’re late.”  
  
Unfortunately, his own helmet was hiding his unimpressed expression, so Grif settled for a shrug of his shoulders.  
“Yeah, nice to meet you too.” He huffed with a clear sarcastic undertone.  
  
The other soldier seemed to be taken back for a tiny moment, before he simply ignored what Grif had to say and continued.

“I’m the second in command of Red Base. You will soon meet your new sergeant. Our day starts at 600 and after a quick breakfast we usually start our training. Goal is it to steal the Blue Teams flag.”  
  
There were several things going on in Grif’s brain right now – The day started at 6am? Fuck that. What was this guy’s problem? And why was their objective so odd?

“I thought we were supposed to fight them? Not steal a stupid flag?”

“Well, that is technically correct. A fight is expected to happen in our battle for the flag.”  
  
Grif rolled his eyes, wishing for a smoke even more than before now. But so be it. If he was payed to battle for a stupid flag, then be his guest. He would not question it.

“Either way-“ The man in the dark red, maroon amour continued. “We expect absolute discipline from our soldiers. Do not underestimate the Blues ability to fight back. They are dangerous and cunning enemies. We need to plan and be prepared at any time, since there is the chance, they attack us as well.”  
  
“Yeah, yeah, it got it.” Grif sighed deeply. “Anyway – What’s for breakfast?”

Again, the other man seemed to be absolutely baffled about Grif’s response and needed a moment to answer.  
“I… What?” A shake of his head. “What is your name, new guy? I shall write this down in your report.”  
  
A report? Grif looked around for moment, as a question popped into his mind:  
How was Freelancer controlling them? Checking up on them? Were there cameras anywhere?

“Grif. Dexter Grif.” He muttered eventually.

And again, there was a tiny moment of silence, and Grif started to get annoyed about that. What the hell was going on with this guy?

Said guy reached for his own helmet and started to take it off, which seemed like an odd move to Grif.  
He squinted and looked at his new teammate closely.

Pale face, sunken in cheeks, freckles, red hair that was a bit longer than the standard issue buzzcut and- _Wait a goddamn minute_.

Grif reached for the little vent that would allow him to take his helmet off as well, blinking a few times when his eyes were exposed to the direct light.

“Wait… Do I know you? I do, don’t I? What was your name again? Something with penis.”   
  
Redhead made a face, grumbling quietly.

“Richard Simmons. And yes, we know each other. Basic Training. Three years ago?”  
  
“Holy shit, it’s Dick! Yes! I remember!” Grif caught himself smiling and quickly clears his throat to stop doing that.

“I remember you broke my nose.”

“I never broke you-“

Before Simmons could finish his sentence, a new, older voice echoed in their direction, interrupting him.  
  
“What in the sam hill is going on over there?!

Grif saw that another man in the usual armour, but this time in a bright red, ran towards them – Shotgun already in hand. Amazing.

“Sir!” Simmons immediately stood parade, straightening his back and squaring his shoulders. To Grif this was just a prove that this guy, even after three years, was still a massive kiss-ass.  
“This is our new team member Dexter Grif, Sir! I was just about to introduce him to our schedule.”  
  
The newcomer chuckled and gave Grif the old up-and-down look.

“Are you sure they didn’t confuse you? This is not the place for a pastry-eating competition!”  
  
“Really, fat jokes never get boring.” Grif grumbled, rolling his eyes slightly. “But yes, I am the new guy here. Nice to meet you.”

Just because he swore to never make friends, didn’t mean in consequence that he had to make enemies. That would just be exhausting and would get boring quickly. So, he chose to be somewhat polite, but carefully distant.

“Well, colour me surprised, little miss sunshine! The name is Sarge. Just Sarge.” Bright red answered and then turned his attention to Simmons.

“Show our new McMuffin his quarters and then I expect you two to join me for training! The darn dirty blue bastards never sleep!!” Sarge practically yelled, before he turned away and walked off.  
  
Grif briefly wondered if that man had ever heard of something called an _indoor voice_.  
“What’s the deal with that guy?” He then dared to ask, because something seemed rather off about the man. “Sarge? Doesn’t he have a proper name?”

Simmons shrugged and made a dismissive hand gesture.

“You get used to it. He is a bit… eccentric. But he is a good sergeant, you will see.”

“No need to ass-kiss when he is not here, dude.” Grif chuckled. “But it’s good to see you didn’t change.”  
  
“Oh, will you shut the fuck up?” Simmons clicked his tongue annoyed and with that unwillingly showed to Grif that the nerd also still had a bit of an anger problem going on. Well, he could deal with that. And maybe find some fun in poking the hornets’ nest every now and then.  
  
/////  
  
It turned out that Grif had to share a room with Simmons. It was nothing but a sad, little, grey square that held two shitty looking beds and two simple, metal closets to store their things.  
Simmons also informed him, that they got ration drops once a month and that he would keep a tight and strict list about who could use what food and ammunition, so that they would never run out before the next drop happened.

To Grif that sounded like a nightmare. It practically translated to him not being allowed to snack. Which might not be a problem for other people, but to him it meant a comfort was taken away from him. And comfort was something he desperately needed right now.

For now, he was alone in the room, with Simmons running off to give Sarge his first report – whatever that meant.

Grif sat down on the unused bed, that would be his from now on, helmet placed next to him on the mattress.

He felt… tired. Very tired.

He wondered if Kai was doing alright and how she was growing up. It had been a few years by now. She was a teenager already and Grif had barely any chance to write or talk to her or contact her any other way.

The planet he was stationed on had crappy internet connection and was too far away to send anything to earth by mail. So, their contact had been reduced to a minimum. And of course he worried! He was her big brother after all! It was practically in the job description!

Maybe if he had said no to Project Freelancer, he would have had a chance to return to earth, even if only for a short stay.

But the thought had made Grif’s insides grow cold and the guilt was so overwhelming that he turned away from that idea. He could not face Kai. Not right now. What if she asked questions? What if she had a bad time at home and Grif had to face the reality of him leaving his poor, sweet little sister alone with that?

No. This was a better option. He had to work – or at least pretend to work. He had to keep himself distracted.

He sighed into the empty room and reached for his pill bottles, which he had stored in the only duffle bag he brought along.

Maybe this would dull this awful feeling of guilt nagging on him.

/////

It only took two days for Grif to realize that everyone in this canyon was absolutely out of their minds.

Their sergeant was a lunatic, who threatened them with a shotgun to follow his orders and he had the weirdest most crazy ideas about what would be a right battle strategy against the blues.

To Grif it felt more like Sarge was playing war, instead of actually taking this seriously. He also wondered what had happened to the man. He seemed completely disturbed and confused. On his first night here, he saw Sarge patrolling the hallways, shotgun in hand, muttering to himself about how the blues would surely ambush them at any moment. Grif considered asking him when was the last time he had slept, but then decided against it in fear it would get himself into harm’s way.

Simmons wasn’t in any way or form better. Constantly on his feet, constantly busy, always following Sarge’s orders immediately. When the man wasn’t tending to a ridiculous list or items or tasks, he typed away on his computer or trained at the little training ground behind their base. Grif never saw Simmons resting, expect when he was sleeping. On top of that he seemed to be an absolute clean freak, yelling at him when he dared to leave his socks on the ground or exploding in his face when he didn’t do the dishes in their little base kitchen.

Where the hell had he gotten himself to?

Both, Sarge and Simmons, also had a haunted look in their eyes when they thought no one was looking.

Maybe Grif wasn’t the only one trying to fight against some personal trauma.

After his two days here, he had yet to see the infamous blues. And he wasn’t sure if that was a good or a bad thing, if he was honest. Either these guys were actually getting shit done and therefore posing a serious threat to them, or they were just as lost.

As usual these past days, Sarge called for them to come to the front of their little base to explain his newest strategies. And as usual his plans were absolute nonsense.

“Listen up, ladies! Last night I started working on a machine that will give us the advantage and the firepower to finally storm the filthy blue base!” He started to announce on this awfully hot day. “They will not know what hits them once I am done!”

“That sounds like a glorious plan, sir.” Simmons lied immediately only to get some goodie-points with their leader. “Do you mind telling us what this machine is?”

“Oh, certainly, son!” Sarge made a dramatic pause, chuckling to himself. His fingers were tight around his shotgun. “What is the one thing that would give us an advantage over the blues, hm?”

“Oh, I don’t know, sir. Maybe we could-“

But since Sarge had simply asked a rhetorical question, he immediately interrupted Simmons to explain:

“A robot! A killing, walking, talking machine that cannot die!!”

Grif huffed a breath out, letting his gun sink so it was facing the ground beneath him. “And how exactly are you planning to do that? Can you actually build a robot?” He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. But Grif already figured that Sarge’s plans were never sound or even slightly doable, and therefore he didn’t expect anything to come from this.

He had hoped, though, that he would have gotten some explanation, but instead a loud _bang_ echoed in the canyon and his chest started to hurt badly with a dull pain. Before he could even register what had just happened, Grif fell to the ground.

_What. The. Fuck._

Sarge had just shot him. With his bloody shotgun from a proximity no less!

Of course, his armour had taken the hit with no problem and it was mostly a rather rough push against his chest, but that didn’t diminish the fact that his sergeant had just used a violent method to shut him up.

“Grif!!” Simmons screeched and quickly kneeled down to him to check if he was still alright. “Why did you do that, sir?!”

“Ah, lighten up, Buttercup. That, unfortunately, didn’t kill him.” Sarge all but huffed, like an old frustrated dog that didn’t get a bone.

With a pained groan Grif slowly sat up, touching the area of his armour that barely got a scratch from that attack.

“What the fuck, Sarge?!” He then hissed angrily at the older man. “Give me one good reason to not report you to command immediately!” This was outrageous! Sarge was not allowed to use physical violence against his own men, surely! At least Grif believed that was the case. He could have seriously harmed him!

“Command will probably congratulate me for a proper lesson taught! Never question your sergeant’s ideas, McMuffin!”

“You’re insane. You’re all fucking insane!” Grif barked and quickly got to his feet, while slapping Simmons’ hand away that had been offered for him to help him up.

Sure, he wasn’t the most important soldier here. He probably actually was rather replaceable. But that surely didn’t give Sarge the rights to act like a wild dictator and just shoot who and like he pleased!

Irritated and his chest aching with pain, Grif stormed off to the base – absolutely ready to hand in a complained.

That would show him!

/////  
  
As it turned out, nothing would show Sarge anything.

Command actually just sighed about Grif’s complained and told him to keep it down. Just go along with his plans. Humour him. Don’t complain. They had no time for such little problems.

And not just that: With no actual scolding happening, Sarge simply shot at him _again_. And again. Every single time Grif dared to stress out how stupid his ideas were.

Sure, he only aimed at his armour, but that didn’t mean it never knocked him off his feet or left him with bruises.

But as it was, Grif simply had to accept that this was how things were done around here. That Sarge hated him and took some sadistic glee in using him as a sitting duck.

With everything going on Grif quickly lost his will to be angry about this and soon this madness became nothing but a mild inconvenience to him.

And who knows? Maybe this was some kind of karma being served to him, for falling asleep on his guard duty. Maybe this was some weird punishment he just had to endure.

And with some time passing, getting shot at, being mocked for his weight and being called names, was just another day in his life.

After all, this was still better than his old position.

////////

Usually they would sit together for dinner in their little red base kitchen. Like most things around here, the dominant colour was a grey-ish dark metal. It became depressing quickly.

There was a little table in the middle of the room and here they would come together and enjoy whatever the delivered rations allowed them to have.

Tonight, Sarge had excused himself – something about finally having an idea about this robot – so it was down to Grif and Simmons to share this meal.

Grif poked his fork into the meatballs on his plate, using them to shove the green beans away. He would not be eating those. Whoever thought green beans were passing as food must have lost their mind.

He briefly glanced over to Simmons’ plate, which had the same food as he had, except the meatballs for some reason. Grif realized that he had never seen Simmons eat meat. Was he one of those hippies that only ate plants? Curious.

Shoving one of the meaty balls into his mouth, Grif looked around the kitchen, getting increasingly bored with the lack of conversation going on.

So, he decided to change that.

“Hey Simmons?” He begun, talking around the food in his mouth. “You never told me what you did before Blood Gulch.” By now they had informed him of the canyon’s name and he still wondered if it was some kind of joke. “Like after rookie camp, before this?”

He saw how Simmons made a face at the question and how he avoided to even look at Grif. He waved his hand, seemingly searching for the right words.

“Well… I was part of a base on an arctic planet.” He started to explain after a tiny moment. “It was actually really cool. The idea was purely science based. We were supposed to explore the local wildlife – which was only snow with snow and ice, you see? – to figure out if we could make it a habitat for another human settlement. Aliens would not come there - too cold.” A deep sigh left Simmons’ mouth. “And then it became super shitty and now I am here instead.”

Grif raised both of his eyebrows. This actually sounded like right up Simmons’ area. Science? Sure, the nerd would love that. No actual fighting? But with all the benefits of proving yourself a good soldier? Sounded like a win-win to Grif. So, of course, he now wondered what exactly had happened to make this shitty.

“Alright. Where is the catch? Why did it become shitty?”

“We ran out of food.” Simmons answered very quickly. Like he wanted this to be out and done.

“So? Guess you had to manage your food better then. Hah, no wonder you’re so anal about our food supplies!” Grif snorted, leaning back on his chair.

Simmons fell awfully quiet for a good while. Grif already turned his attention back to the food in front of him, before the other man continued.

“You don’t get it. We ran out of all and any food. The supply ship couldn’t get to us, because of a heavy snowstorm. For weeks…”

Suddenly a heavy silence hung between them and something in Grif’s stomach grew cold. He didn’t want to think about the implications too much, but now it was too late.

“Weeks? Wait. Then how did you eat? Survive?”

“We did not. I mean… I did.” Simmons looked down to the table, as if he was trying to burn a hole into it with his stare alone. “I was the only one surviving.”

Grif gulped, barely able to work up the bravery to keep on asking.

“But… how did you-?”

With that Simmons got to his feet and put his plate away into the sink. With his back turned to Grif he grimly explained: “We had a dog…” And then stormed out of the kitchen, leaving Grif completely alone.

Grif puffed out a breath he wasn’t aware he was holding.

At least, he thought, that would explain the lack of meat in Simmons’ diet…

++++++++

“Freeze!!”

If Grif had thought his day could not get any worse, he had been badly wrong. After weeks on this planet, he finally got to have a face-off with the infamous blues. Just that he had hoped he would not see them for the first time with a gun pointed at his face.

They had another of their awfully silly training sessions, dictated by Sarge.

Him and Simmons were running towards a tree in the canyon, supposedly to see if there was fruit, they could take for additional rations.

Of course, the stupid tree would not have any. But whatever. Grif did not care enough to protest.

Just when they were close enough to decide that, _yep_ , that tree was basically dead and didn’t had any fruit for them to take, he and Simmons were suddenly tackled from behind and had guns pointed at their faces.

Wonderful.

“Welp. Hello there.” Grif managed to press out, frankly a little nervous. He had no idea yet who these people were and how serious they were about killing them.

“I said _freeze_! That means you shut the fuck up!” The man in aqua armour, currently pointing the gun at Grif, yelled.

“Technically it just means that you-“ Simmons started to explain, but immediately got interrupted by the man in aqua.

“Will you just shut up, man?”

Something about that voice raised questions in Grif, but he wasn’t stupid enough to ask. At least not right now.

“Why are you fuckers at our tree?” The other man in light blue armour asked them then, clearly sounding very annoyed.

“Your tree? Bullshit, that tree belongs to no one!” Grif was mildly impressed that Simmons was brave enough to talk back with a gun pointed directly at him.

“Of course, it belongs to someone!! It belongs to us!” Light blue yelled loudly and angrily at them. “And now you belong to us as well!” Turning his attention to his blue teammate he continued. “You bring the prisoners to Flowers. I… uh… just stay here. Scout the area.”

“What? Have me do all the work? Bullshit. You just want to stay here and take that nap we wanted to have! Seriously, fuck you, Church. We’re doing this together!”

“Nonsense! What if the third one is around somewhere? All this could be a trap! Why else would they come out to our tree after weeks?! They must have seen us nap-… Guarding the area!”

Grif sighed quietly. Something told him these idiots were just as incapable of doing this whole army-thing as red team was. So much for the scary, dangerous blue team. What a joke.

Just when the fight between the two blues seemed to get rather loud and serious, a third blue showed up, hands on his hips.

“What is going on here, gentlemen?” The rather soft voice came from the man in dark blue.

“Sir, we caught the reds! Stupid fight is practically over.” Light blue, named Church – or so Grif had picked up – happily informed the other man.

“Yeah, it was mostly my work.”

“Fuck you, Tucker. You did nothing!”

Tucker…? Grif perked up at that. He did hear correctly! It was a bit hard to tell through their helmets, but he had the idea that he had heard that voice before.

“Tucker.” Grif called out, not as loud or brave as he had hoped it would sound. “Dude, we went to basic training together.”

Tucker, and practically everyone present, turned their attention on Grif at that moment. Between explaining to the newcomer what had happened, their fighting over who actually did the work and the guns still pointing, no one had expected him to speak.

“Basic training?” Tucker tilted his head. “Wait…!” Suddenly the man did a little hop in excitement, lowering his gun and pointing at Grif. “You’re that dude! Wait, what was your name? Don’t tell me! Diff. Miff. Melf. G… Grif?”

At that Grif pointed back at Tucker. “You got it!”

“Yo, man! Good to see you! How have you been?” Tucker stepped closer and the two men clasped their hands together in a friendly greeting.

“Excuse me?? Are we done fucking shaking our enemies’ hand?!” Church hissed at them but lowered his own gun. “What is this?! A hostage situation or a class reunion?”

Completely ignoring Church, Grif simply pointed at Simmons. “Remember him? It’s Simmons!”

“No way! That bitchy little nerd that broke your nose is here too?”

“I never broke his-!”

“Yeah, man!”

“Awesome!”

“You guys are still assholes.” Simmons groaned unhappily.

You see, Grif thought to himself, the thing with Tucker was that he would not call the man a… _friend_. No, of course not! Not even a buddy.

Because the thing was: The moment you actually started to like someone, they would leave you again. If he had started to like his team and the people in the colony he was stationed in, it would have been absolutely traumatizing to wake up and see them all slaughtered on the ground.

Very very traumatizing.

He would have nightmares; see their faces all the time and they would force these pills on him to help him with that. Then they would put I’m in a stupid little base to steal a flag….

Either way: It wasn’t worth it.

Forget about these people and don’t let the new ones get too close.

Hadn’t he learned a thing?

But Grif could only fool himself so much. In the end he was rather glad that he knew Tucker and always had the impression they got along well in basic training. So maybe he would not kill him immediately or harm him too bad.

That was the only reason he was happy to see the man.

Anything else would be very foolish.

The strange thing about this meeting with the infamous blues was, that in the end their sergeant, who introduced himself as Butch Flowers, simply… let them go. Just send them home and explained, that they should do this right next time. Whatever exactly that meant.

Grif left that utterly confused. After all, they had them practically at gun point and he had at least expected some sort of fight. Even after he and Tucker introduced themselves again.

So why would the enemy team just send them away? Why hadn’t they already taken them hostage? To him it had seemed like Flowers had tried very hard to avoid an actual conflict. That that wasn’t the goal of their clash. Looking back, Grif would even go as far as Flowers even being somewhat annoyed that they had finally met. Giving him the message: _That wasn’t supposed to happen._

A part of him wondered what was going on here. Nothing seemed to make sense. What was their actual goal? Just stealing the flag? And then what? Why had they not seen each other for so long and when it finally happened the highest rank very quickly tried to un-do it?

Something seemed to be fishy about the whole thing.

The other part of him was rather pleased about that. _So what?_ He was kept in a canyon full of idiots and besides Sarge’s abuse, there was little chance they would break out in a fight? Fuck, if that didn’t sound like the worlds easiest and most boring job.

For now, Grif decided to just let it play out. Who knew how this would all end?

“”””””””””””

Simmons had been an absolute nightmare for the past few days.

It all had started with Grif leaving his dirty laundry on the floor in their shared room. Simmons had practically exploded in his face.

_You’re lazy._

_You’re disgusting._

_Clean up your mess._

The only mess Grif saw was Simmons’ mental state. For a reason unknown to him, the man was even more prickly than he usually was.

And it was slowly getting to Grif as well.

Sure, he cared about very little these days. He was barely shaken by anything.

But with Sarge making fun of him all day, pushing him around and calling him names, having Simmons yell at him over every little misstep was getting a bit much.

Around evening, finally allowed to strip off his armour, Grif decided it was time that he should treat himself with something tasty. Something nice.

And he knew just about what that was.

He walked over to their kitchen, which was blissfully quiet and empty right now, and started to raid the fridge for what he needed: Eggs, butter, Milk, some whipped cream – sugar and flour from the cupboard. There was also a bar of chocolate that he could melt.

He would make the world’s best cake, and it would be all for himself. Grif found he deserved a little treat.

He gathered bowls and tools and started to crack the eggs into one, adding the milk and opening the package of flour. The oven was already starting to pre-heat.

Somehow baking had a weirdly meditative feeling to it and Grif could feel his shoulders relax and himself breathing a little more deeply and calmly. It was rather nice.

That was until Simmons, equally out of his armour, stormed in, already looking stressed and angry upon arriving. He stopped dead in his tracks, looking around to the broken eggshells on the floor, the flour already spilled on the table and Grif giving him a confused raised eyebrow.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Simmons all but growled at him.

“Jesus, chill. You sound like I’m committing a crime. I’m baking, dude.” And in an attempt to avoid the storm that was upon him, Grif added: “You can have a piece of the cake too, when it’s done.” Even though he had planned to eat it all by himself.

“Are you seeing the mess you’re making?! Who is going to clean that up, huh? I wonder if it’s me! Because it’s always me who has to clean up after your shit!” Simmons walked over to Grif, just to yell that into his face.

Sure, Grif had to admit he was not very eager to pick up his stuff and usually it was Simmons who did in the end, but that didn’t mean he had to just stand here and get yelled at. Sarge already did that enough.

“I don’t ask you to do that, you know that, right? That’s all on you.” He answered as calmly as possible.

“Yeah sure and in three weeks our base will look like a shithole!”

“Three weeks? You’re very optimistic.”

“I am so sick of you and your shitty attitude and I-“

Grif was not an angry person. Never had been. His own relaxation and calm were the most important thing to him, and it took a lot to make him not prioritize that.

Simmons here, yelling directly into his face… Listen, it just wasn’t worth it.

In an attempt to stop the man, Grif simply grabbed the bowl of eggs and milk and poured it over Simmons’ head.

“There. Now you can go and clean yourself up.” He smirked, thinking that was very clever of him and expecting Simmons to run off to get that mess out of his hair. Then Grif would finally have the calm and quiet he so badly craved for.

Instead though, Simmons stared at him with wide eyes – they were green, Grif had never realized until now – completely quiet for an amount of time that was uncomfortable.

“Dude, what-?” Before Grif could finish, Simmons had grabbed the can of whipped cream, which had been standing next to the bowl, and sprayed a huge amount right into Grif’s face.

“What the fuck?! Have you lost your mind?!” Grif stumbled backwards, raising his hands to protect his face from getting cream all over it. But Simmons just came after him, grabbing an arm with his free hand in an attempt to make an opening for more whipped cream.

“How about that, you fuck!” Simmons hissed, the mix of egg and milk now running down his face.

“Have you lost it?! Fuck you!” Blindly reaching for whatever Grif could find, he grabbed what felt like the small bag of flour he had found and tried to smack it against Simmons. He didn’t quite hit him, which made the flour just spill messily, flying everywhere and practically covering them both with a cloud of white.

Taking another step backwards, Grif felt his foot slip away on, which he would later realize, an eggshell on the floor. In reflex he reached for Simmons’ arm to stop his tumble to the ground but ended up pulling them both down.

With both of them yelping in surprise, followed by a loud _bang_ , they found themselves on the cold, metallic kitchen floor – Grif on his back, his ears ringing from hitting the back of his head against the ground and Simmons on top of him with all his weight.

Would the stupid ginger ever stop hurting him by accident?

“Ouch, what the hell?!” Grif whined, reaching to rub the back of his head and blinking the slight dizziness away.

He saw Simmons staring down at him, dripping with milk and egg and flour, his face twisted into something that Grif could not quite understand – until Simmons’ mask finally cracked.  
First, it was just a small chuckle, then it started to come out as full and heartfelt laughs.

Grif blinked up at the man, until he, too, realized how bizarre and silly this all was. They were a mess. The kitchen too. They had fought over some stupid cleaning work, going at each other’s throats in bottled up anger, while they technically had much bigger problems.

And it was like all the trapped stress and anger of the past few days was escaping them both. Grif just couldn’t stop himself and started laughing too.

Laughing so hard and so long, that his eyes started to water. So much so, that his belly started to hurt, and his face surely was all red.

But this had been needed. So badly. He couldn’t even remember when was the last time he had laughed so hard. It must have been before he joined the army.

And when was the last time, he had someone this close to him? He had missed human contact so badly. Back with his sister, they would share hugs and honi all the time and now in the army, surrounded by stone cold attitudes and toxic masculinity, he hadn’t been touched except for the occasional fist in his face. It was depressing.

Now looking at Simmons above him, through his watering eyes, seeing him sticky and messy and red from laughing, made Grif think that if the situation was different, he would think that Simmons looked rather dashing like this. Not cleaned up, proper and playing pretend as a soldier, no. To Grif this felt like he was seeing the real Simmons for the first time.

How his laugh was very squeaky – _a guinea pig_ , he thought fondly. How his cheeks became so so red, because he was usually so very pale. How it made his freckles more visible. How his hair looked quite nice when it wasn’t tidy.

And little details he had never payed attention to: How his teeth were not perfectly straight, which made him look striking and young. How his ears were rather big, but that just added to Simmons general charm. How his eyelashes were the same colour as his hair.

Which was a bittersweet realization, because if they were not soldiers and if Grif had not sworn to keep his distance, he found he would maybe actually start to be interested in the man. Even despite the obvious issues and the little fights they were having.

How curious that would be! Could he make Simmons laugh like this more often? What was it that made him laugh, if not them being ridiculous? What were his hobbies outside of this military nonsense? Would Simmons like him too? Was he even into men?

Grif’s laugh slowly died down, leaving him panting and feeling very overheated.

Of course, he thought, these questions were purely theoretical. Because fact was, they were in a base and were expected to fight. Simmons was too much into this, too stuck-up, too mean, too angry, to be considered anything but an unfortunate companion to Grif.

But as it was with thoughts like these: Once they were planted as a little seed in your brain, you could only hope they would never fully bloom.

“This is ridiculous.” Simmons snickered and ripped Grif from his thoughts. “This is… I should not have… You know what? Have your baking. It’s alright. I will tell command to replace what you used for our next delivery.”

Of course, right back to planning.

“Very generous of you, boss.” Grif snorted and when Simmons slowly got off of him and got back to his feet, he followed.

“You have eggshell in your hair.” Simmons pointed at him, still fighting the giggle that was clearly still trying to surface.

“Yeah? Maybe it’s a fashion statement.” Grif smirked and because they were both still trapped in the circle of laughing so much you could not stop, they both started again.

Maybe Simmons wasn’t that bad after all. Maybe there was more to the man than just his shitty attitude and anger. If he only dug deep enough, he might see that side of him again.

Maybe his life in red base didn’t have to be that bad.

////////

“… and then he started laughing like a fricking badly oiled machine. He squeaked!” Grif chuckled about the little kitchen incident, now that a few days had passed and he was sitting behind a big boulder, enjoying its shade.

Next to him was Tucker, with both their helmets tossed to the side and hiding here from their respective teams to enjoy a smoke together.

Both had agreed that their little Red vs Blue nonsense could use a smoke-break every now and then.

While, of course, Grif still tried his best to stay emotionally detached, his will to be so strict about this was slowly crumbling. Simply and sadly, because it was getting rather lonely here.

And it surely wouldn’t hurt to have a few minutes with someone who shared a similar mindset, right?

“Wait, so you tell me you two just tumbled to the ground like in a fucking romantic movie?” Tucker snorted, followed by him taking a drag of his cigarette.

“Don’t …. Don’t call it that.” Grif wasn’t comfortable comparing this to anything romantic. Not after he had thoughts about how he would maybe try to hit on Simmons if they were not in the army. This was hitting too close home.

“Ohh, why not, dude?” Tucker immediately caught up on that, poking Grif with the pointy bit of his elbow. “You having a crush?”

“Oh, fuck off!” Grif quickly hollered but made an effort to not look at Tucker. He feared his face was giving something away – even though he was not sure what that would be. “That is not even funny. Simmons is the most annoying, stick-in-his-ass, brown-nose, I’ve ever seen! He isn’t even anything special to look at! No way, dude.”

“Someone is getting defensive~” That asshole had the nerve to sing-song that at him.

“You know what? Go choke on a dick.”

“Oh, come on! Don’t get so pissed about this!” Tucker started laughing and Grif felt like he had let Tucker see too much of himself right now. This was none of the guys business! It wasn’t even true! Even if Grif had a hard time to explain to himself why he was getting so angry about this.

Tucker simply was not getting it. Even if Grif would admit out loud, that Simmons was kind of his type, or that he had found it actually adorable how the man had laughed about something so silly the other day – it simply was besides the damn point.

Grif could, and would not, afford or allow himself to catch feelings for anyone.

That would be the exact opposite of what he was desperately trying to do this whole time. Sure, he kept on failing to keep up his guards, given that sitting here with Tucker at all was going against that attempt, but he would not let this escalate any further.

He just could not.

If he actually let this run wild, let that seed fully bloom, he just knew it would eventually break his heart to pieces.

Not only for the usual reasons, that if you started to fancy someone, he might not even like you back. Or simply was as straight as an arrow.

No.

Right now, a Blue could be marching over there and hold a gun to Simmons’ head.

Or hell – While Project Freelancer had claimed they were alien-free on this planet, who would guarantee that a ship would not accidentally land here anyway, and they were all basically fucked?

Or their employer turned out to be an evil organisation after all – even though that sounded highly unlikely. They were not in a damn movie after all.

Point was: Grif was not risking it. He was here to find structure, to make money, to have a future.

Not to get his heart broken by a military obsessed straight boy.

No, thank you.

“You know what? Let’s just fucking change the topic.”

He was simply here to survive the Blood Gulch canyon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not a native speaker and I have no Beta, so please excuse my mistakes. 
> 
> Next Chapter will be already the End of Project Freelancer. A lot of things have happened between then and now, I can already tell.


	3. The end of Project Freelancer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The difficulty of this chapter was to remind myself that this story is supposed to fill the gaps and not to re-tell what we know happened. It was so tempting to revisit the story we know, but this fic is long enough already. 
> 
> Thank you so much for your kind comments again! <3 It really keeps me motivated 😊

No matter how often you saw the stars, they would never not be breath-taking.

The vast emptiness of space, the fact that everything was so tiny and far away, was soothing and comforting to him.

Grif sighed and his breath left a little foggy spot on the glass that separated him from the stars. His helmet had been left behind on a little metallic bench that was close to this window. The engines of the ship were like a constant white noise in his ear.

He came here to seek solitude for once. And as far as he was aware, the rest of the guys had spread around the ship to find a lonely spot as well.

To reflect on what had happened. Or to lick their wounds.

Or suppress the memory already. Or maybe they were just blissfully unaware of the size of the big pile of shit they had just left behind.

If you had asked Grif when he joined the army, what he would be doing in five years, he maybe would have said that he kicked some alien butts and now was discharged from service. That he would return home, live with Kai or find a nice boy to settle down with.

He sure as hell would not have said that he, and his team, would take down one of the biggest military A.I. Projects known to mankind.

That _Project Freelancer_ would fall and end, because he and his merry band of misfits had joined together with two of the Freelancers, ready to end it all.

Surely, he would have not said that his buddy Church was an A.I.

Fuck, what the hell even were these past two years?

_Blood Gulch_ was supposed to be calm! And when Blood Gulch wasn’t, it was supposed to be _Rat’s nest_!

Sure, there had been some weird shit as well.

The fact that Tucker had a baby. When Grif himself got run over by a Tank and now Simmons was half a cyborg and he had some spare parts in his own body. That his sister had shown up. Doc. Tex. Donut. Caboose.

But all that had been peanuts compared to the mess, chaos and danger that had been the Meta. And Washington. Then Carolina.

And in the end, Church suddenly was Epsilon and he had taken off with his new Freelancer sister.

Grif rubbed his face and shook his head gently. He should not be thinking about this. He was already getting a headache. Especially when he tried to make sense of what all this would mean for Alpha. Wasn’t he… technically dead? Had they lost the Church, that they had hung out with for nearly two years, and didn’t even realize? Or was Epsilon technically the same guy?

Really, if you thought about it, it boiled down to the question of what even made a human _human_. Also, how much an A.I. could even be a man. Or how much the different parts of said A.I. were their own kind.

Usually Grif loved to think about things like this. The universe. The sense of life. It really was fun to him. But right now, it threatened to break his heart if he eventually concluded that Alpha had been his own person after all and now he was dead and gone forever.

Grif’s glorious plan to not let anybody close – not even learn their names, because why would you bother! – had failed miserably somewhere along the past years.

While he would, obviously, never admit it out loud, these idiots really had grown on him. Every single one of them. Even Sarge, despite the old man never stopping to be a massive asshole to him.

But how could they have not? They had fought side by side on several occasions. Took on a whole army of Tex’s, fought against the Meta himself, protected each other, watched out for each other – and the whole red and blue team thing was officially long forgotten.

These were his friends. His teammates. His brothers in arms. How could he not care?

To Grif it felt like he had made a massive mistake. He had opened his heart and mind to people, that were eager to get themselves into trouble all the time.

For a while they had assumed Donut was dead. Or that he himself was dead. Sarge nearly kicked the bucket against the Meta.

Why would he allow these people to potentially hurt him so much? And how would he ever be able to return home and not worry about them?

Another sigh, another fog against the window.

Home was where they were heading right now. After all that had gone down, the Freelancers had organized an official government ship to bring them back to earth. Finally, it would be back to civilian life – or at least that was what Grif was hoping. Their adventure was over.

Which brought him to a completely different kind of problem: _Simmons_.

The thing was, that they had grown close during Blood Gulch.

While the others had become friends, or at the very least buddies, Simmons and him had been glued together at the hip. They had become inseparable. It was the two of them, always together to the point people were confused if they didn’t find them standing and chatting somewhere.

Even Sarge started to tease them about it. And the old fool was one of the most oblivious, reality-denying people he had ever met.

In the beginning of their time in Blood Gulch, Grif had thought of Simmons as the most stuck-up asshole, completely brainwashed by the military system and his daddy issues.

But as it turned out all these were just the consequence of a toxic family, an abusive past and a false ideal of who Simmons wanted to be as a soldier and a man.

With his generally more calm and indifferent approach to these topics, Grif had somehow managed to crack Simmons’ shell little by little and eventually got to meet a completely different man – Passionate, smart and deeply caring. And with that and Simmons willing to let his guards down in front of Grif, he had found a partner in crime that he shared so many nights awake with.

They would and could talk about everything. _Stargate, Battlestar, Star Trek_ and _Wars_. Comic books. Tabletop. Anything that was even slightly nerdy woke an infinite pool of passion in Simmons and soon he dragged Grif with him. They binch-watched all of these shows, played games and read those comics together.

They would share their ideas about the universe, the sense of life and their opinions and basically everything else. They would never run out of topics, nor would they ever get bored with each other.

And all this was a god send. Grif was incredibly thankful that he had Simmons to spend the overly boring times with and someone that allowed him to just be himself.

Of course, they also still got into fights. They were simply too different as well. When Grif decided to not clean up after himself or took a step too far in teasing Simmons. When Simmons got another melt-down and decided to let it all out on Grif. They would spend hours just yelling at each other.

But it always blew over and they found themselves chilling in the warthog for hours again.

And with this Grif found himself facing two problems.

Finding someone that was so aligned with yourself was something Grif had never experienced before. They had found a system with each other, that was, while flawed, an incredible source of relaxation and comfort for Grif. In the past years he woke up and there was Simmons. He went to bed and Simmons was still there.

He simply started to have trouble imaging a life without the man.

That, after _Project Freelancer_ fell, they were on their way to be dropped off and retire on earth, left Grif in an incredible big dilemma.

Simmons would have his own life again. Away from him. And who knew? Maybe he would be very glad to finally forget about him. Grif honestly, and in the end, had no idea if his feelings on their little duo were mutual or not.

To massively fail with his plan to not make any friends was one thing – to get attached to someone to the point where them leaving caused his heart to break, was a completely new level of being a massive idiot.

What had he done?

The other problem was simply that Grif had to waste a lot of energy and time in the past year, to convince himself that his feelings were nothing past the level of friendship.

He was certainly not catching himself staring at Simmons and admiring his handsome face – his freckles, his nose, his soft looking lips. He was also not catching himself daydreaming about a future they could have together – they could have a house on Hawaii and bicker and fight until they were old and grey…

And most certainly! He was not imagining if Simmons’ cyborg hand would feel cool against his own skin when they lay together at night, exploring and teasing. Would Simmons feel soft with all that metal in his body? Would his voice break, like it sometimes did when he got angry, if Grif just found the right spots to kiss?

No. He was not ever thinking that.

At this point Grif had simply nothing to believe that Simmons wasn’t straight and uninterested in him as anything but a buddy. To him that was simply the harsh truth.

Of course, there had been a moment when they were stationed at _Rat’s nest_ , and about to be shot for selling ammunition to the enemy team, when Simmons had stuttered something about ‘ _needing to tell him something’_. But Grif would have none of it. He didn’t want to hear anything that would get his hopes up just moments before they died. _Fuck that_.

So, he had quickly made sure to make Simmons angry one final time and that chapter was closed as well.

Which merely meant that Grif was feeling heartbroken over being convinced that Simmons was not into him, but at the same time too terrified to open up to the idea that Simmons maybe actually was.

Nobody said feelings were easy or followed any logic.

And here he was: Staring out into the endless space and the little fog that his breath made against the glass was coming in quicker and quicker puffs.

Grif felt like he was the world’s biggest idiot.

“Ah, there you are!” A voice, thankfully, ripped him away from his thoughts that threatened to spiral down a dark path.

Grif turned around and found Agent Washington standing there, full armour and helmet on, hands in his hips.

“I was looking for you.” The freelancer continued, looking more awkward than any man in full body armour should do.

“What for?” Grif wondered, sounding as unimpressed and calm as ever.

Washington slowly came closer until he was standing next to him, looking out the same window. “I thought it would just be the right thing to do to… thank you. All of you. I understand that this isn’t easy for anyone involved and that we… Agent Carolina, the Alpha unit, and myself, of course, we dragged all of you into something awful. Something none of you should have ever faced.”

“Because we’re just low-level sim-troopers? Thanks man.”

“No!” Washington quickly shook his head and tried to rephrase. “I admit, the bravery and skill that all of you have shown was… surprising. To say the least. But we could have not done this without you. And now, even though I have made all your lives so difficult, you even show me enough kindness to take me in and help me get back to earth.”

Which was a whole different can of worms, Grif thought. Washington’s armour was still painted the same light blue as had been Church’s. To Grif this left a bad taste in his mouth. It felt… weirdly respectless.

But he would not open that can. He had enough on his table as is.

“Dude, just shut up.” Grif huffed, looking away from the man and back out the window. “You were annoying. You shot Donut, you kidnapped Simmons and Doc… And now you’re here. Water under the bridge and all that. I don’t care, honestly.”

Even though he could not see Wash’s expression, he was pretty sure the man had not expected that answer from him.

“… What will you do when we land on earth?” Wash then simply decided for a change of topic. Smart man.

“I will probably first have to make sure my sister comes home safe.” Grif could really only hope she was still safe and sound in Blood Gulch and that he could simply go and pick her up.

“Ah yes, Kaikana, right? I have met her. She thought I was a cop and didn’t want to talk to me because of that.”

“Yep, that sounds like my sister. I taught her to not talk to cops.” He beamed proudly. “Fuckers can’t be trusted.”

“But I am no-“ Wash started to complain but stopped in the middle of his sentence to touch his helmet where his ear would be. That just meant someone was trying to talk to him over com. “… Understood. I will take care of that.” The man then answered whoever had talked to him and turned his attention to Grif.

“You know how to handle Simmons, right?”

“Huh?”

“I just got a complaint from the Captain that someone, apparently, is trying to update the ships internet explorer? They saw a guy with red hair is going around, that messes with their sensitive machinery. Grif, I…” Wash hesitated. “That sounds like – how do you guys say that? – _a red team problem_? Would you take care of that? Just talk to him. It could crash the navigation system or the whole ship.”

Grif sighed annoyed and was very tempted to flip Washington off and tell him he was not Simmons’ babysitter. What kind of stupid problem was that anyway?

But he had to admit that sounded like nonsense that Simmons would absolutely bother to do.

What an idiot.

“Yeah, how about you fuck yourself.” Grif gruffed, turned around and walked away from Wash towards one of the hallways.

He heard the man call after him, very confused: “Is that a yes?”

================

Of course, it was a yes. Even though it was stupid work and meant he had to walk around the comically large ship to figure out where this idiot was off to.

But Grif hoped that maybe Simmons would be down to steal some snacks and hang out somewhere. It would be nice to do that one last time…

After a way too long time, Grif found himself walking past some bathrooms and once he was past the men’s room, one of the mirrors inside shattered.

He got a feeling that hadn’t been a ghost, but rather the one he was looking for.

Simmons had this bad habit of breaking them.

With another sigh, Grif turned and walked into the men’s room, which, of course, revealed Simmons inside.

The mirror was shattered, Simmons’ helmet on the floor and upon seeing him, the man squeaked and quickly brushed some tears away.

Which was completely unnecessary, because with a skin as pale as Simmons’ he got incredibly red and botchy when he was crying.

Grif had, sadly, seen this enough times over the past years. Simmons easily started crying. All the time.

“Sup.”

“What are you doing here? Get lost!”

“Nah. I don’t think I will.” Grif casually shoved a garbage can in front of the door, so no one would walk in on them. “So, what’s all this then?”

Simmons gave the man nothing but a very irritated glare for a good moment, but Grif had patience. He knew he had to have that with Simmons.

“Nothing.” The ginger then finally snapped at him and turned away to look anywhere but him. “I just needed to let some steam out.”

“After you updated all those internet browsers? I can see how that makes you angry.”

“No? Okay, so first of all!” Simmons raised a finger at Grif, “Their browsers were outdated and slow, they can thank me later! And second-“ He raised another finger at Grif, now pointing two, “- It’s none of your business what I do in the bathroom, nor do you actually care anyway, so leave me be!”

“Fine.” Grif shrugged and leaned against the closed door with crossed arms. He knew Simmons well enough that it would lead to nothing to force him to talk about this. Instead he simply tried to stir around it and in his experience, the issue would show itself sooner or later anyway. He sometimes wondered if Simmons was aware of what he was doing. “Any ideas yet what you will do when we land on earth?” Might as well steal a line from Washington.

Simmons let his hand sink again, looking down to his feet. “I… no? I have no idea actually. Maybe I should visit my dad and tell him what I did? I mean this is quite the achievement, isn’t it?”

“Hardly.”

“Grif, come on! We took down the whole Project!”

“Us, or the Freelancers? I don’t think we deserve so much credit.”

“That’s because you never think you deserve anything, idiot.” _Ouch_? No need for Simmons to immediately go so deep.

“Anyway –“ Stirring away again. No need to talk about this. “- what will you do after you tell your hero story then? Because that’s barely a plan.”

“I told you, I don’t know!” Simmons threw his hands up frustrated, now turning to fully face the cracked mirror to his side. “Maybe I can find another position. I… don’t know what to do with civilian life.”

“Really? You would go right back in?” Of course, Simmons would. That was exactly why Grif worked so hard to keep his heart closed up. They were just not compatible.

“What about you? I take it you don’t want to stay in military?”

“Oh, hell no!” Grif turned around as well, seeing his reflection now in the cracks of the mirror. Long gone was the buzzcut of basic training. Instead his hair had gotten so long, he had to put it in a bun. He also couldn’t be bothered to shave, and his three-day-stubble was now slowly turning into an actual beard. “I collect Kai and then I fuck off to Hawaii. This whole system can suck my dick.”

By now Grif regretted everything. He had hoped that the military would give him a perspective and a chance… Instead he got a nice cocktail of trauma, scars, new organs and a broken heart. Not fucking worth it, if you asked him. It was a mess.

Simmons sighed when he heard that, nervous look on his face as he turned back to face Grif and stepped a bit closer to the man.

“And if you come with me…?” The man’s voice was very quiet and unsure, like he was telling a secret.

“What!?” Grif faced Simmons again, eyebrows climbing up his forehead. “You can’t be serious.”

“I am pretty serious. We’re a good team, Grif.”

“Nonsense. We nearly got executed last time we worked alone together.”

“That’s because you-!” Simmons’ voice raised to a yell, but he stopped himself, took a breather and continued. “Maybe we can find a way to make this work. You and me.”

Grif felt his insides freeze and his heart stopped immediately. What was Simmons suggesting here? Was it really just to build a team? Was he reading too much into this?

“Grif, come on. We could-“ Simmons reached out for him, because he was taking too long to answer. But before his hand could touch him, Grif flinched back and ducked away from Simmons.

“ _Nope_!” Grif hated how his voice started to squeak. “I don’t know what you’re implying here, but I think I think you really don’t mean that, Simmons.”

Why was he doing that? Why did he flinch away? His mouth had been quicker than his mind. And his heart. Grif immediately regretted his reaction. But the panic that had gripped him, was overpowering.

People died when you let them close.

No one was safe.

He could not…

Of course, Simmons’ face immediately got twisted into something very hurt. Of course, he had hurt Simmons right now. But it was probably for the better.

Grif loved to lie to himself how he was just protecting them both from worse heartbreak in the long run.

“So, that’s it? We just go about our separate ways?” Simmons’ voice was thick with tears that already started form in his eyes again.

_What a cry-baby_ , Grif thought fondly and hated himself for that.

“That would be for the best, yeah.”

Simmons shook his head and walked over to the trashcan that was blocking the entrance to the bathroom, pushing it away so he could leave.

It was ripping Grif apart on the inside. He wanted to stop the man and take everything back. But he also wanted him to leave and never see him again.

Feelings were fucking bullshit, if you asked him.

Before Simmons even got the chance to open the bathroom door, the light suddenly switched to a deep red colour everywhere and an alarm started to blare loudly.

“ATTENTION CREWMEMBERS. CRITICAL FAILURE OF ENGINE A382. I REPEAT, CRITICAL FAILURE OF ENGINE A382. PREPARE FOR EMERGENCY LANDING.”

“…. What??” Grif felt all the blood drain from his face and he exchanged a panicked look with Simmons. “What does that mean? Aren’t we in the middle of space?!”

Simmons took some steps away from the door, looking around as if he was trying to figure out what to do. “The ship is programmed to find the next possible planet and try to land there. I-I…” He shook his head again. “I don’t know what happens if it can’t find anything! Or how bad the engine is damaged. Fuck, what do we do??”

“Should we evacuate?”

“Are there even enough rescue shuttles??”

Another announcement cut through the blaring alarm. “ATTENTION ALL CREWMEMBERS, THIS IS THE CAPTAIN SPEAKING! EVERY ENGENEER AND PILOT IMMEDIETLY TO THE ENGINES! WE’RE GOING DOWN IF WE WANT TO OR NOT! THIS IS RED ALERT!”

The captain then repeated his message, but not soon after the ship started to shake, and they got the physical sensation in their bellies that they were going down.

“What the fuck?! We’re crashing!”

Another shake that nearly threw them off their feet.

They were fucked. Grif couldn’t believe this. After all they had gone through, they would find their end in a ship-crash? That was it?? He would never see his sister again. He would never see Hawaii again.

Another shake. People started to scream in terror.

Grif quickly hurried over to Simmons and pushed him to leave the bathroom. Maybe they could find a rescue shuttle. Maybe they would get there in time.

Instead, as soon as they were out of the bathroom, Simmons ran right – and he ran left.

“No! What the fuck are you doing?! This way!” Simmons hissed and came after him, grabbing his hand tightly and pulling him towards the right.

They ran. They saw other people running. Some were crying.

Where were the other reds and blues?

Simmons never let go of his hand.

Suddenly the biggest shockwave yet rippled through the ship and had Grif and Simmons thrown off their feet, falling to the ground.

Grif’s ears started to make that annoying beeping sound and he could not hear anything for a few moments. He saw fire ahead of them. Something had exploded.

“No! No no!” He started to hear Simmons again, if a bit muffled. “That was our way to the shuttles! Now we’re never making it in time!”

The ship sank further. And quickly. The metal around them started to make awful sounds like it was threatening to break apart.

“That… That’s it. We’re done for.” Grif sat up, staring blankly at the fire in front of them. He could see that a body was lying lifeless ahead.

Simmons sat up next to him, falling quiet. They had to face it. For once there was no way out of this.

Another shake, more falling down into nothingness.

“ATTENTION! WE TRY TO LAND ON A PLANET BELOW US! THIS WILL BE ROUGH! EVERYONE GET TO A SAFE PLACE!” Now even the captain sounded in panic and not as professional anymore.

“A safe place? As we crash on a planet? We just get crushed.” Grif was surprised about how calm he sounded in the eyes of death. There was no way they could survive this.

After all they had gone through, a faulty ship was end them. Not the freelancers, not the Meta, not the Project or each other. No, it had to be a ship in space.

Grif wondered if he had done things differently, if he had known that this would be his last day. He sure as hell would not have wasted so much time thinking. Maybe a nap, instead. Or a snack. Maybe he would have confronted Simmons differently.

But that all didn’t matter now. Given how people around them screamed and cried, metal creaking and more explosions going off somewhere, they would not make it to any rescue shuttles. This ship was enormous. And now the closest part to rescue was cut off from them.

Simmons made a tiny, frustrated sound, that was nearly drowned out by the alarm and the screams around them. He turned and grabbed the front of Grif’s armour, pulling him closer.

Without giving Grif any time to react, or say anything, Simmons simply pressed their lips together. And the world turned silent.

There was no alarm, not to Grif. There was no fire, not to him.

For this one moment there was just Simmons’ soft, warm lips against his own. They were dry and a little chapped, but Grif held his breath as if he was afraid that he this moment would end if he ever breathed again.

This was their last moment, he realized. It was over.

This was why Simmons was doing this. Because they were done and had nothing left to lose. There would be no consequences to a kiss. No emotions to face.

Last time they had found themselves facing an end, Grif had stopped Simmons from saying something he would regret. But now, that it already happened, Grif had no strength left to stop Simmons anymore.

Instead he reached and cupped the man’s face very gently, holding him close.

Simmons was clumsy about this, moving his lips too much and going way too quickly. But soon he adapted and mimicked Grif’s calm approach and they sank into the sensation of mouth against mouth, warm tongue against tongue.

It was just them. Just for this very last moment.

They drank it up like a thirsty man in an oasis. This was all they had left.

And then a final shockwave rocked their bodies, something exploded, and the world turned pitch black.

/////////////////////////////////////

The first thing Grif was able to recognize, was the smell of fire and oil. Then he started to hear the fire and… birds? Birds were singing somewhere.

It took all his willpower to blink and open his eyes slowly. He lay on his belly, cheek pressed against something hard and metallic. He had a raging headache, his whole body ached, and his forehead seemed… wet.

What had happened?

Only little by little did it come back to Grif that they had crashed with their ship. Something about a planet. Had they actually managed to aim for it?

With a pained groan Grif pushed himself to a sitting position. He was very dizzy and felt like he had to puke just by doing this.

Looking down his armour he could see how wrecked it was. Orange colour rubbed off and big dents in several places. He got the suspicion that his armour had stopped him from getting crushed.

He reached up for his forehead and his fingers came back with blood. Yeah, his helmet had been missing. He probably got insanely lucky that his head had somewhat survived this.

Grif gasped when the next memory came back to him. To what he had been doing before the crash.

“Simmons?! Simmons!” He looked around himself in a panic, heart racing madly. There were several fires burning here and there. Big, silvery and grey metal pieces lay around him. He could see an arm poking out from where two bigger pieces had been pushed together and probably crushed a poor sod underneath them. But the arm was not in armour. This had been a crewmember.

With much effort Grif managed to get himself to his feet. The dizziness was getting overpowering now and once he stood, he leaned over to puke. _Yum_.

But there was not time to dwell on that. Grif simply let this wash over him, then rubbed his mouth with the back of his hand and started to walk.

Even though he was feeling insanely bad and his vision was a little blurry, he couldn’t stop walking. This was a mess. There was blood and metal and fire everywhere. As far as he could see.

He saw several bodies lying around, all in different shapes of destroyed and crushed. The uniforms were giving them away as the crewmember. None of them seemed to have survived.

_If you start to care for someone, they leave you or die. You’re an idiot._

What if Simmons was not alive anymore? Had not survived the crash? He also had not been wearing his helmet.

_If you start to care for someone, they leave you or die._

What should he do if he never found Simmons? His body crushed under all the rubble?

_If you start to care for someone, they leave you or die._

What about the others? Had anybody survived this? Sarge? Caboose? Donut? Tucker? Doc? Lopez?

Grif felt his strength leaving him, but he pressed on. He had to know.

_Just like his last team._

_Crushed and dead._

_The only survivor._

His knees were shaking, and he had trouble breathing – had his armour been crushed more tightly against him? – but he could not give up.

And then, after what felt like endless minutes, he saw a bit of red hair poke out from under a big metal piece.

“Simmons!!” He yelped and ran as quick as he could. “Simmons are you okay? Are you alive?? Please tell me you’re alive!” His voice got pressed by a lump in his throat. With his last bit of energy, he managed to lift the metal off of Simmons, tossing it to the side with a grunt.

He kneeled down, fighting that his body threatened him to vomit again, and gently gave Simmons a shake. “Come on, buddy. Wake up!”

Another endless moment. Grif was going crazy.

“…. Huh… Mhm…?” Simmons finally stirred. The man’s armour looked as damaged and broken as his own and the man’s right arm had a big rip along its length – but instead of blood, it leaked a blue-ish liquid and sparked electricity. It had only damaged Simmons’ cyborg part. Thank god.

Grif let himself fall back a bit, until he was sitting and let out the biggest, most shaky sigh of his life. He payed with his last bit of self-respect and willpower to not start sobbing right then and there.

Simmons was alive. _Somehow_. Grif was under no illusion that this had been no short of a wonder. He could have easily lost the man and never seen him again.

_Great_ , he then thought, now even their way home was trying to kill them.

“Simmons. Get up.” Grif grunted, trying to collect himself. They still had to find the others.

_Do not start sobbing now._

_This isn’t over._

“What happened?” Simmons’ voice was all slurry and slow as he slowly started to push himself up into a sitting position. He tried using his right arm and gasped suddenly, sounding alarmed. “What…? I can’t move my arm!”

Grif gave him a gentle push with his foot – he was too exhausted to move now. “Yeah, your robot arm. Look, it’s losing cooling-liquid. Sarge needs to fix that.” While he might sound somewhat calm about Simmons’ worry, he was deeply relieved that it was just that. Cyborg parts were replaceable. Even if it had ripped Simmons’ whole arm off – he would just need to attach a new one. Had it damaged his normal arm, though, the situation would be mighty different.

Simmons whined anxiously and pushed himself to his feet, swaying a moment and blinking dizziness away. He walked a few steps away from Grif, only to then turn and look behind him.

“What the fuck…” Simmons’ face was turned upwards, staring at something.

Grif groaned unhappily, but pushed himself back to his feet as well, to join Simmons and see what he was looking at.

In his hurry to find the man, Grif had not bothered to properly look at their situation.

What they were seeing now, was the massive transport ship broken in two halves. One had landed on this side of the canyon, the other was a little bit further away. It was… a massive wreckage. A mix of fire, blood and death.

“I… have no idea how we survived that.” Grif muttered quietly after a moment of just letting that picture sink in.

“Me neither.” Simmons looked over to Grif then, eyebrows drawn together. “You’re bleeding.”

“Yep. I know. Probably cracked my head open a little.”

“Doc should…. Wait!” Simmons gasped. “Have you seen the others?! What happened to them?”

“Have not seen a single soul. Only very dead crewmembers. Poor fuckers.”

“We have to go look for them!”

&&&&&&&&&&

Without his helmet Grif had no idea how much time had passed. Not that his clock was working anyway.

The blood loss and, what he assumed was a concussion, was slowly getting to him and he was actually starting to feel bloody awful. His head was throbbing in pain and he was getting dangerously tired.

But they had not yet found anybody.

He could tell that Simmons was growing more anxious by the minute, probably because he was assuming the worst.

They climbed and stepped over metal-pieces that varied in size – a football, to a whole car, to the size of a house. It was like the large ship had just sprung apart and splattered its parts everywhere.

They found more bodies of crewmembers and even though neither of them was speaking at the moment, they knew they would have to come back and bury them. That was the least they could do.

Together they pushed away a large piece that made way for them to continue in one direction. Grif was about to demand a break, when he heard a familiar voice calling.

“Ey! Over here, fuckers!”

Both Grif and Simmons turned towards the voice, exhaustion forgotten for a moment. “Tucker! Holy shit!” They hurried over to the other man, who was standing between two steaming pieces of metal – cut apart by his energy sword. “You’re alive!”

“Uh-huh. Needs more than a ship crashing to kill this guy!” Tucker pointed a thumb at himself.

“Yeah, or you were just lucky to be in powerarmor, you asshole.” Grif gruffed at him. Unlike them, Tucker had been smart enough to not take his helmet off, or at least put it back on when they went down. But just like theirs, his armour had dents and scratches everywhere. It was safe to assume they all would have been unluckier if it wasn’t for their armour.

“You say armour, I say Mama Fortuna loves me.”

“Whatever. … Good to see you made it.” Grif then added with a bit of hesitation and Simmons gave Tucker a friendly pat on the shoulder to agree with his words.

“Have you seen anyone else? We’ve been looking for hours now. I’m getting worried.” Simmons wrung his hands nervously.

“Yeah, I found Donut! Come on, I bring you to him!”

00000000000

First it was Tucker and Donut, then they found Doc trying to help a man that was clearly dead already, then they discovered Caboose had simply assumed this was part of the plan and had waited for them like a good boy – completely without a single scratch of course. That man was a mystery and Grif had no idea how he had just been sitting there, not a worry in the world.

“I really hope Sarge and Lopez are alright.” Donut sighed behind them, as they all walked through the mess as a group now.

“And Agent Washington.” Tucker reminded them. “Let’s not forget about him.”

“Do you think anyone else survived this?”

“No way. You’ve seen it. They all have been made into pancakes.”

“Tucker, that’s disrespectful!” Donut quickly shushed him.

“Whatever. I just want to find our guys and then sleep for a week. This is bullshit.”

“Oh, can we have pancakes for breakfast??”

“Not now, Caboose.”

Grif was walking close by Simmons’ side. Their hands sometimes brushed against each other – by pure accident of course. He could not express the relieve he was feeling at the moment. For a good while he was sure he had lost his whole team again. That he would find them bloody and destroyed on the floor, just like he had with his old team.

But by some miracle, they were nearly all together again. Besides his cracked head, Tucker having a slight limb and Simmons’ arm, they were practically unharmed as well.

“You alright?” Simmons gave him a gentle little nudge with his elbow, giving him a worried look.

“Yeah… I’m just tired.” It wasn’t even a lie. He just wanted to lie down and sleep. But it was also just part of the truth. “I can’t believe we got so lucky. I was sure this was the end.” He then admitted quietly.

“Fools luck.” Simmons gave him a tired little smile. “Right now, I just hope we find the others quickly and figure out what we need to do next.”

“I’m not doing anything next but take a nap.”

“You know what I mean.” Simmons grumbled a bit annoyed. “What is this planet? Are we alone here? Can we radio someone to pick us up? This is important.”

“My head feeling like its breaking apart is more important to me right now.” Because it was starting to get unbearable. He really should have put his helmet back on.

But if he had done that, they could not have… Well, that was a whole other thing. _The kiss_. They had done it because they were sure they would die, and now they were still here. What would that mean for their relationship?

Grif was just glad that, at least for now, there were more important things.

Even though he got the idea, that Simmons was not willing to simply drop that topic. Namely, because he had reached for Grif’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. Secretly and carefully, so none of the others could see.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

I turned out that, after Sarge had dug out Lopez’ head from a bunch of rubble, the two of them were found by Agent Washington. They had landed on the far other end of this place and after too many hours they group was finally fully together.

All of them were exhausted, terrified and in different states of hurt. But at least they were alive and together again. Something that could not be said for the rest of the crew.

They decided to stop and rest by one of the fires that was still burning in the wreckage. Doc luckily found a first aid kit and did his best to take care of Grif’s head – all while complaining that there was no orange juice around to take care of his blood loss.

Meanwhile Sarge tried to fix up Simmons’ arm, but only managed to, as he said it “Keep it from exploding. _For now_.” Neither Simmons, nor Grif, wanted to know what exactly that meant.

Washington eventually addressed them all, acting like their leader already – which felt very wrong to Grif. He explained that they would need to scout for radio-equipment, tools, food and water and then for help. That he was hoping they would be able to call through a radio, should they find one that wasn’t damaged by the crash or would be able to fix one.

Grif thought that Simmons had that idea before Wash, but somehow it felt childish, even for him, to stress that out. And he couldn’t care less either way.

After Washington then announced that he would take the first night shift to watch over them, since they could not be sure they were alone on this planet, everyone slowly settled somewhere on the ground to get some rest. They all needed it badly.

Some pretended more than others, that they had not been shaken by the crash, but Grif knew them all too well to believe that. This had been a shock to everyone. So many people had died and who knew where the fuck they had even landed.

Caboose casually cuddled up to Tucker, which the man let happen without a comment or any fuss. Grif got the idea that either this was something Caboose did regularly, or that Tucker was simply glad to not be alone with his thoughts right now.

Same with Doc and Donut. Those two openly embraced by the fire, going even as far as quietly whispering to each other.

Sarge, shotgun somehow still in hand, was using Lopez as a pillow and was already snoring loudly.

And because of that, no one was batting an eye, when Simmons settled downright next to Grif. No one dared to be an asshole right now, this was simply not the time.

“Is your head feeling any better?” Simmons whispered to Grif, so he would not bother anyone else.

“Nah, dude. I’m pretty sure this battles the tank when it comes to pain. Can you believe the stupid first aid kit didn’t even have any painkillers?” He whispered back.

They were both on their sides, head supported by an arm and facing each other. No one dared to take off their armour, which promised a rather uncomfortable night.

Hard metal bits were simply not made for sleeping.

“Do you think we will find a radio? What if we don’t and we’re trapped here?”

“Don’t think about that, Simmons. You just get all anxious and then I have to deal with that.”

“Fuck you.”

“Yeah, you too, buddy.” Grif managed a tired smile, which was quickly mirrored by Simmons.

“I’m glad you survived.”

“I’m glad too. You would be so fucked without me.”

“Very funny.” Simmons made a face at that, hesitated, but then reached out to brush some dried blood off of Grif’s eyebrow. A gesture that might have been completely pointless, given there was so much more dried blood everywhere on him, but it was a tender one, nevertheless.

Which lead to Grif’s heart going crazy and cold at the same time. He was afraid of this. Of closeness, of tenderness. He had to come to realize this.

Sure, Simmons and everyone else had magically survived, but this had been a giant chance. It could have easily ended very differently. And then what?

If he finally opened up his heart to Simmons, he would take a gigantic risk. There were so many problems attached to both of them, and that was not even counting in the constant danger they seemed to get themselves into all the damn time.

He honestly had no idea what to do about this. He wanted to accept that Simmons was seeking out closeness. He wanted to believe that there was something going on between them – hell, he had kissed him after all!

But at the same time, he feared the consequences. It was as simple and as frustrating as that.

He wished he could talk to Kai about this. She was much better when it came to feelings and relationships. She would probably smack him across the head for his stupidity and would call him an idiot.

Maybe if he just waited to see where this planet would lead them, he could give this a more rational thought. If they would be saved soon and finally brought home. If he could convince Simmons to not jump right back into a military job and risk his health and life again… Maybe.

Right now, he was at the limits of his strength, he was hurt and anxious about this whole situation. Right now, he was just glad that Simmons was here, was well, alive and close.

Just for this moment, he decided to say _fuck it_ and just enjoy what they were having. Be glad and thankful that they could still share this.

Grif reached for that hand that had touched him and pulled it closer to himself, pressing his lips against the gloved fingers and then holding the hand pressed against himself.

“Let me sleep, will ya?”

“Of course, you have to be lazy about this.” Simmons chuckled quietly, cheeks gently tinted with a faint colour of red. “Good night, Grif.”

“Good night, Simmons.”

At this point and time none of the reds and blues were aware that the planet was called _Chorus_. Nor were they aware that the crash had stirred the attention of two figures, that were already discussing how they could approach the group and use them for their plan to destroy the people of this planet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Grif: I want you.  
> Simmons: Well, I want you too.  
> Grif: *gay panic* ?!?!? 
> 
> As you can maybe tell, Im not a fan of RvB´s jokes "a lot of people died and there was a tragic battle/accident, but its funny somehow!" aka Grifs and Simmons backstory, and the shipcrash before chorus. Oh well, thats what Fanfic is for! :)


	4. A victory for Chorus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to make a little exception to “I only fill in the gaps” for this chapter. I had to talk about something that happened in Season 15, or the next chapter would not make any sense. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy and as always thank you so much for your kind comments!! 😊

Thick, heavy curtains slowly drew back and showed an empty stage. Music was playing and soon the first two puppets were introduced.

They hung on strings and were made to hop around the stage by an invisible person guiding them from above.

They looked awfully like Kai and Simmons.

Suddenly their strings ripped apart and they fell lifelessly to the ground. His ears rang with the manic laughter that now filled the room.

Without any care for logic or the laws of physics, Felix appeared out of nowhere and was right in his face – an evil smile on his ratty face.

“You thought you could do anything for them? You thought you could safe them? Fucking fool! Useless slob! You’re going to watch them all die!”

The laughter that followed was so loud, that Grif had to press his palms against his ears to drown it out a little bit. There was the sweet smell of rot and decay in his nostrils. Someone was screaming somewhere.

But there was no escaping. _Laugh and laugh and laugh…_

“GAH!” Grif yelped awake and sat up straight in his bed. His heart was racing and there was cold sweat on his forehead.

Another nightmare. Not a single night would pass where he wasn’t haunted by the images of death. war and Felix.

The puppets were new, he had to admit that.

“Fucking Christ…” Grif rubbed his face, feeling insanely tired. He couldn’t even remember the last time he had a good night’s sleep.

He let himself fall back down against the soft mattress and reached over the edge of his bed to his nightstand. Blindly he felt around, fingers touching old candy wrappers and socks, until he finally found a little orange bottle.

He tilted it into his palm, but no pills would fall out. Empty again.

Dr. Grey had given him these, so he could sleep a little bit better, but of course he burned through them like candy. It was ridiculous.

Dexter Grif trouble sleeping? If he could pride himself doing something well then it would be sleeping! And yet here he was. This was slowly grinding him down. He wondered if it would ever stop.

He carelessly tossed the bottle away, indifferent to where it would land. It didn’t matter anyway. His place was a mess.

He put an arm over his eyes, in an attempt to block the sunlight out that was coming through his window. It must already be midday. He could hear Sarge yelling outside, ready to battle another invisible enemy.

The past year had been hard for all of them. And Grif was convinced they all got their little package to carry from this.

Back then they all had hoped to finally return home and figure out what they wanted to do with their lives.

Instead they had crashed right in the middle of civil war and were pulled immediately into its mess.

Played like puppets by Felix and Locus to serve their own little twisted show.

Of course, they could have denied the people of Chorus their help, but the two mercenaries had made sure that the reds and blues had no choice but to get involved – separating them and feeding them the story of the evil other party, that wanted to harm their friends and in extend the people of this planet.

Like fools they had charged right into it.

This all had made Grif sick to his stomach. Another mess. Another war. Another fight. But what choice did he have? At this point he had been convinced that Sarge, Donut and Washington had been in danger.

And unfortunately, Grif cared way too much to refuse his help. He would have not forgiven himself.

Instead of figuring out how to get home and forget about Simmons, Grif now suddenly found himself promoted to captain and in charge of his own squad.

Which seemed nearly ironic with how much it was exactly the opposite of what Grif wanted. Instead of worrying for his friends and whatever Simmons was to him, he now was responsible for the lives of young soldiers, who expected him to teach them and guide them through this war.

What then happened to Tucker’s squad eventually was exactly one of the things that were still giving Grif nightmares to this day. No matter how goofy and incompetent they were going through this, their actions had real life consequences.

And he had been under no illusion how madly underqualified they had been for this job. There was a real chance of more underlings falling victim to this war and it would be their responsibility.

Tucker was still talking to him about this, when they were sitting together at night with too many beers and too much weight on their hearts, how he would never forgive himself. How he blamed himself for what had happened and how he had failed them all as their captain.

Grif barely had any words to make this easier on Tucker. What could he say? This had been his fear as well and it was a tragedy. Could they have been saved if they all had been better captains? Grif had no answer for that. So, instead he usually gave Tucker an awkward pat on the back and told him to not think about it. It was no use.

Which was an advice he rarely followed himself.

And then, to make it even worse, it turned out that they had been just pieces in a bigger plan. Their actual enemies had been Locus and Felix all along.

Why had they not seen this coming? Because they were idiots. Incompetent, naïve and so bad that it had been especially easy for these two to fool them.

The lives lost, were just another piece in this mad game of chess.

The responsibility of that was weighting heavy on everyone shoulders.

And then came the final blow. They had been arrogant fools, fighting a fight that they were way too weak to ever win. Carolina and Washington could only be at so many places at once, so the reds and blues took off and tried to bring this to an end – only to be trapped in a corner by Charon Industries.

They all knew this would be their end. Again. Another end. Grif was getting sick and tired of these moments and he felt like no one should experience this repeatedly.

Yet here he was, his Grifshot in hand, facing the door, that was the only thing between them and soldiers. They were all ready to go out with a _bang._

But that _bang_ never happened.

Church, no… _Epsilon_ , had done the only thing that was able to save their lives and it had cost his own in the end.

He was gone now. Forever. So, they could keep on living.

Once they had gotten his message and Caboose had expressed that he did not understand what had happened to Church, they all decided to deal with this the only way they knew how to: By not dealing with it at all.

They never talked about Church, because they simply could not face the pain this would cause them. 

Instead they returned to the people of Chorus and celebrated their victory and the end of this civil war.

Grif snorted when he thought back on that, a little smile curling his lips. This was a good memory, for once. And it reminded him why he got so attached to all these idiots so much:

No matter how bad and depressing and hopeless the situation seemed, they would always pick each other back up and make the best of it.

The victory party lasted three days straight. They drank, they danced, they sang. They had some embarrassing cries in each other’s arms. This had been exactly what they all had needed and a welcomed distraction from the friend they had just lost.

Was that healthy or had any respect for the dead? Most likely not. But at this moment it was what had saved them all from falling into a pit that Grif was not sure they would ever get out of.

So, they drank some more. The music was making his ears ring and he had trouble hearing for a few days after – but all this had been so worth it.

And as they said it: Life was for the living and this was exactly what they all needed to feel alive again.

Grif stretched a little in his comfortable bed, before he finally sat up and got out of it. He needed some coffee. Preferable with a lot of cream and sugar.

Barefoot he walked over to his little kitchen and started his coffee machine, filling the room with its sounds.

Kimball had been kind enough to send them to a Chorus moon and give them all some housing and supplies. It was the best thing that could have happened to them, if you asked Grif.

If you asked Sarge though, he would call it a massive mistake. Old fool could simply not live in peace.

But Grif was sure that eventually Sarge would settle as well and maybe they had finally reached a point in their adventure, that would allow them to recover. Maybe this could be a home to them.

A house for each of them, a community base, water, grass, blue sky and supplies that would last them for years! Their single ship could take them to Chorus in under an hour, should they ever want or need to visit. Grif already made plans to bring Kai here. She would enjoy this, surely.

And the best of it all? They were all together. No one mentioned any plans to leave this moon. They were safe and comfortable, and nothing could rip them apart anymore.

Despite the awful trauma Grif that was still battling, for once in four years he dared to hope that he would soon forget about all the shit he had to witness and finally move on with his life.

He grabbed the cup of coffee, that now was steaming hot and ready, poured in too much cream and too many pieces of sugar, and sat back down on his bed.

He then reached for the communicator to check his messages.

“Sarge is losing it again. Come outside asap.” Simmons. The message was four hours old by now, Grif had simply not woken up until now. _Oops_.

He was sure the man could deal with their old sergeant by himself. No need to stress now.

He took a sip of his coffee and immediately burned his tongue.

Grif’s eyes were still glued on the message and Simmons’ name, as he remembered the final night of their victory party.

They both had been exhausted from drinking and dancing and had looked for a quiet place to rest. Unfortunately, all of Chorus was still up and about, so their only little safe space had been a random broom closet.

Not that it mattered, because it was quieter here, they were alone, and they could close a door. It had been perfect. The plan had been to just rest and talk until they were ready to party again.

If only it wasn’t for Tucker’s glorious idea, the day would have passed like any other.

Back, when they had crashed on Chorus and then realized what shit they had gotten themselves into again, both had silently agreed to not talk about the kiss.

Which was exactly the reason why Grif usually would have stopped Simmons from kissing him, if he had reacted quickly enough, because they were both simply not able to face the consequences. It was frustrating and sad and Grif would have rather moved on without this.

Now they had been left with the kiss hovering over their heads and neither of them able to express what it had made them feel. It was dysfunctional to say the least.

But they had moved on and successfully returned to their old selves. In the eye of a civil war there had just been more important things than their feelings.

And it would have worked out. They would have simply continued their lives as usual – but then that night happened.

Tucker, that asshole, had made this even more complicated. He activated that bloody temple.

Of course, Tucker had not wasted a single moment to think of what this would mean for anyone. He had just decided for himself that this party needed to end in a big event that no one would ever forget.

Grif was still equally angry and thankful for that until today.

Because it had made things so much more awkward, but it had also been amazing.

With the temple of procreation activated, all of Grif’s worries had been flying out into space. Who cared for the consequences? Who cared if they had a future? What did it matter that with a romantic interest he risked losing his best friend should things ever go south?

_Whatever!_

His brain had turned to mashed potato and he was pretty sure that Simmons had felt the same. It was like they had been on drugs and Grif had not felt this light and happy since he had joined the army.

It wasn’t like the temple made them do anything either. They were not forced or manipulated, but rather it turned their worries off, their overthinking, their _ifs_ and _what’s_ – and in return gave them little nudge to give into that _need_ that had been sparking between them since a few years. It had that tension finally release and didn’t give their minds the chance to ruin it, at least for this moment.

Their mouths were onto each other almost immediately and Simmons did that quiet little moan against him that had transformed Grif’s legs into jelly. No one had said a thing, no one had hesitated. It was just like they had gotten a little spark that made them do it.

_If you like someone, they will_ …. Who cared? Simmons was hot. Fuck it. Finally do it.

Amour pieces and clothes landed on the floor in a hurry. Soft hands on his chest, his sides and down to his arse. The cyborg hand was quite warm…

_If you liked someone_ … what? Who cared? Have you seen how beautiful Simmons eyes were? Have you heard his voice?

He would have not thought that Simmons would moan so sweetly if you sucked the skin right beneath his ear. His skin was so warm and soft, he could not stop to kiss it, bite it, bruise it. He wanted to mark the man. Simmons was _his, his, his…._

_If you_ …. Shut up. Just shut up. Enjoy it.

With brains replaced by potatoes Simmons had lost all his shame and anxieties as well. It was a blessing. Because the way he had pressed back against him and asked him for _more, more, more_! It was still haunting Grif to this day – in a good way.

He had been so hot and willing, asking, no… _begging_ him to take him.

_Do not waste time! Don’t be lazy for once! Just do me already!_

Grif was not able to think this through for one second. The alien technology seemed to have turned that part of his brain off. All he was able to focus on was giving Simmons what he wanted. Kissing, licking, biting. Pushing into him again and again. Hot sweaty skin against hot sweaty skin.

Everything had been a blur and some memories were still fuzzy. Where had they found the lube? How had no one caught them in the act?

And how long had they been going at it? Grif would not be able to tell, but if he would have a guess, he would say they had been in this closet for hours – simply because his knees had the rugburn of their life’s, his body ached with pains and his skin was peppered in bitemarks and scratches. And dear god, those scratches were something. Simmons had left his back looking like he was attacked by a puma and it had taken days to heal.

On the other hand there were certain things Grif would never forget about the night: The sound of Simmons’ voice calling out his name in bliss, the taste of his skin under his tongue, the feel of ginger hair between his fingers as he pulled Simmons’ head back in the heat of the moment, buried deep inside of him. No, this would forever haunt his mind.

But once the temple had done its thing and turned itself off again… things had been less comfortable.

Waking up tangled and naked on the cold hard floor of this closet, Simmons had jumped up and away from Grif. His face the colour of beet, mouth covered with a hand and his eyes as wide as soup plates.

Now thinking clear again, Grif could feel his heart sink in his chest. This had been a mistake. They should not have done this. If their relationship had been complicated before, this would make things so much worse.   
He immediately wondered if Simmons was disgusted by him. Had he hurt Simmons? Had he been too rough? Grif felt guilty too that this had been the man’s first experience. Maybe he really did not enjoy it even a little bit?

All his old worries were back in an instant and as always they ruined everything.

Grif had opened his mouth to say something, but he would not get the chance. Simmons quickly grabbed his clothes and took off, out of the room and away from him.

And just like with the kiss and with Epsilon’s sacrifice… They chose to never talk about it. Claiming the door had been locked, if anyone confronted them about it.

Yeah, they were not dealing well with this.

But as heart-breaking and uncomfortable as it was, Grif had to admit that this night had been unforgettable as well. He could not speak for Simmons, but he himself had enjoyed this immensely. They had fit together like two puzzle pieces, melting into one and giving and taking pleasure in a way, that Grif had not experienced before.

It was tragedy. It felt like someone had given him a taste of what he could have and now had ripped it away from him.

If he could choose to forget about this, he would not know what to do. The memory was simply too bittersweet.

Grif sighed into his coffee and had another sip, which this time around didn’t burn his tongue. Forget about this. He had things to do.

He reached for a chocolate bar – a perfectly reasonable breakfast if you asked him – and looked around his floor for something to wear.

Grabbing a shirt off a pile of clothes, he gave it a quick sniff and decided it was just passable enough to wear again.

A quick glance at his clock was letting him know he was already too late for his meeting with Carolina, but surely, she would understand.

He got dressed, gave his face a quick wash and stopped for a tiny moment to look at himself in the mirror.

The bags under his eyes had gotten bigger this past year, which he blamed the returning nightmares for. His skin looked a bit ashy, since he was simply worn out by all this mess.

They now had been on this moon for a few weeks and he wondered if he would recover with time and if yes, how much longer it would take. Months? Years? There was no way of telling.

Dr. Grey had urged them all to join her for group therapy, but they all had declined that. Just not their style. Instead they chose to simply forget about what they had done and seen. Really, it was a theme going with each and every one of them.

Putting his, now even longer hair in a messy bun, Grif grabbed his communicator and started to leave his house for the day.

/////////////////////////////////////

Carolina and him were meeting regularly by a little body of water. She had concluded that relaxing simply was something she could not do, nor had she ever learned how to. How does one turn their brain off? How to release the tension?

Of course, she had come to the most relaxed of their little group for advice. Which was actually kind of laughable, given that Grif had only one thing going for him: The illusion of an unbothered façade.

But at least he had an idea what to do to relax, in theory. And these meetings have been helping him as much as they, hopefully, have Carolina.

They would sit by the water, enjoying the calming white noise of it, and simply tried to meditate their tension away.

Breath in…. And breath out. Pay attention to where your breath is going, how your belly was rising and falling with each intake of air.

Just observe your thoughts as a silent watcher and let them pass on…

It was easier said than done. But Grif got the impression that it was doing something, because otherwise Carolina would not return here every other day.

And in the end, with nothing else to do, they had to pass the time somehow.

There was of course the band they had started, but with Carolinas’ singing voice, that was not the most relaxing activity.

So, again they were sitting here, enjoying the wind and the water and sitting crossed legged side by side.

“Are you sure we’re doing this right?” Carolina wondered after a few minutes.

“Still doubting my technique?”

“No, I…” She hesitated, looking for words. “I have to admit, I was sceptical, but I do feel my shoulders relaxing. I just wonder if that is it? Isn’t there more? Somehow, we surely can optimize this? Do it quicker, better?”

“That you ask me this just shows you have not yet learned your lesson, young padawan.”

Grif only got a frustrated growl as an answer and he had to fight himself to not laugh about it. It was a process after all.

He was then trying to get back into it, when he heard and annoyed little sigh of breath somewhere behind them. He turned his head and saw Simmons leaning against a big rock, arms crossed. He could not see his expression because of the helmet, but it was easy to tell that the man was annoyed by something.

Grif knew better than to actually confront Simmons about it – or rather it amused him so much more to let Simmons simmer in whatever it was that pissed him off.

Turning away again, he soon heard new footsteps arriving behind them.

“Oh! They’re actually back at it?” Grif could hear Doc whisper to Simmons. “I’m so proud of them! This will do them good.”

“I still don’t see how this will do anything. They just _… sit there_. Breathing. Is this even scientifically proven to have any effect?”

“It’s not about science, Simmons.” Doc shushed him, “It’s about your brain reconnecting with your soul and body! Grounding yourself and living in the moment. It is-“

“Really, you two? Are you done bothering us with your talk?” Carolina had turned around to snap at them.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Carolina! I understand this needs a quiet environment!” Doc quickly whined and hurried off, too afraid of Carolina to say anything, while Simmons simply fell quiet again.

Grif smirked quietly and returned to focus on his breath.

In and out… In and out…

They were safe here.

There was no war anymore.

They were safe.

Simmons had slept with him. _Ohmygod_ …

They were safe.

Forget about it.

/////////////////////////////////////////////

The nice thing about the houses they had been given, was that they all had access to their roofs, which in return made a neat little hangout spot.

There was enough space to put some chairs, maybe a blanket and enjoy the chilly night air with a cold beer in hand.

Every so often Simmons would join him on his roof, sitting on a blanket together and talking just like they did back in Blood Gulch.

The sky was full of stars and the two other moons, plus Chorus itself, were visible from here. It was actually quite the breath-taking view. With a nice drink and good company, it was something Grif caught himself wishing he could have forever.

And maybe, with their last adventure over, he finally could hope for a forever. Maybe they had finally reached the safe place to be, that would offer them a forever home. Of course, he had hoped for Hawaii and Earth, but if this was it, Grif would be more than happy to accept it.

Despite all the bad shit they had gone through, despite the nightmares and the tension, Grif found himself – did he dare to say it? – quite happy these days. This was all he had wished for. Just this. Just them. Safe and together. It was not much, but it had felt so out of reach for so long.

“Why are you always meeting with Carolina?” Simmons suddenly asked, sitting next to him and looking up into the sky.

“Huh?” Grif needed a moment to process what the man had just asked him. “To relax? Duh? You’ve seen it yourself today. What is that question?”

“I mean… You were just sitting there. I don’t get it. Why are you doing this with her?”

“It’s called meditation. Really dude, you should try it. Maybe it takes the stick out of your ass for once.”

“No. Why are you doing this _with her_?”

Grif drew his brows together in confusion for a moment, before it finally clicked, and he couldn’t help but laugh out loud.

“What the fuck, dude?” He snorted and poked Simmons’ side with his elbow, slightly pushing him to the side. “Are you jealous or what??”

“Shut up.” Simmons grumbled, now turning his head to look away from Grif. “I’m not jealous. You don’t get it.”

“Oh, yes you are! Holy fuck, Simmons. You’re such an idiot.”

“Fuck off.”

Grif laughed again, not taking this serious for one second. This was just Simmons low self-esteem making something up that isn’t there, and Grif knew that Simmons knew that too, deep down. But the idea was simply hilarious.

Finally done laughing Grif let himself fall back on the blanket, arms crossed behind his head and looking up to the stars instead. He chose to not torture Simmons any further about that. That idiot would surely soon answer his own questions and forget about his ridiculous ideas.

“Have you ever wondered what is out there? I mean… besides a whole bunch of aliens and war and capitalist bullshit. I mean, we had no idea about Chorus until we landed here. Crashed here, I guess. We would have never met all these people.” Grif muttered instead.

Simmons sighed quietly and shuffled until he also let himself down to the blanket, but instead he lay down in a way that he could abuse Grif’s soft belly as a pillow for his head.   
“I think I stopped wanting to even think about that. We’re here now. That’s what matters.”

Grif blinked surprised for a moment, looking over to Simmons, now comfortably resting against his belly. That was… quiet the position to be in. But he didn’t mind at all. In fact, this felt intimate in the best and most harmless way.

Besides, Grif was catching himself more often these days, wondering if whatever it was between them, was not worth a shot in the end. Because right now, they were exactly where Grif had imagined them to be. There was no fight, no military nonsense and Simmons seemed to have gotten quite fatigued about being a soldier.

Maybe they could finally talk about this, instead of ignoring what happened between them.

If Simmons would move into his little house here, he could bring Kai over and she could live in Simmons’ house. They could start a little garden, maybe decorate the place. They could live peacefully and just focus on each other. Maybe this was finally possible and everything Grif had feared would be a thing of the past.

There was no need rushing this, either. They were here now, with all the time in the world and the universe, to figure this out for themselves.

Grif couldn’t help a little, quiet smile as he watched Simmons instead of the stars.

“Yeah, I guess that is what matters. You’re right.” He agreed, feeling a warmth in his chest that he hadn’t felt in a very long time.

“You think this is it? Are we staying here now?” Simmons turned his head to meet his eyes. There was a bit of colour on his cheeks and Grif wondered if he had a similar line of thought.

“I certainly wouldn’t mind.”

“Really? Like… Making this moon your home?”

“Why not? We have everything we could want and need right here. A nice home, supplies, friends, a doctor and a whole planet just around the corner. Maybe we can finally drop Sarge off at Dr. Greys and figure out what is wrong with the old man.” Grif snorted, amused about the last thought. Sarge definitely needed some therapy. Or a girlfriend. Both, most likely. And Dr. Grey seemed like a good fit for these positions.

“I’m pretty sure Dr. Grey would fuck up Sarge even more.” Simmons chuckled, his nose curling in a way that had Grif’s heart skip a beat.

Holy fuck, who was he kidding anymore. This was the man his heart has chosen. He couldn’t deny it any longer, he was hopeless.

Stupid heart.

“But maybe it would do him good. We should give it a chance. Maybe they fall in love, or something.”

“Ugh, that’s kinda gross. I don’t want to think about Sarge’s love life.”

Grif snorted about that. “That’s just because you have some daddy issues with him.”

“Shut up, you’re an idiot. I don’t have anything with Sarge. He’s just… _old_.”

“Old people deserve love too!”

Simmons laughed and curled a little into himself and with that, pressed himself a little bit more against Grif’s side. Oh, he wasn’t minding that at all. The air was cold, and Simmons was quite warm.

“I mean it!” Grif stressed out, smiling like an idiot. “I should start a project; I will call it - _Help Sarge get laid_ -. What do you think?”

This only made Simmons laugh more, which was exactly what Grif was going for. Poor guy could only choke out a little “Gross!” between his laughs and gasps for air.

When he was finally done laughing, his face was all red and his eyes watery. He was beautiful.

Grif reached and brushed a strand of hair away from Simmons’ forehead, still smiling himself.

“Hey, you remember when we first met?” He then wondered, getting a little nostalgic for their time in basic training, now that he looked at Simmons and found him to be the most handsome being in the universe. How time and things have changed.

“How could I forget that? You waited for me when I puked.”

“Yeah? Back then I thought you were the most stuck-up asshole I’ve ever met.” Grif smirked, not even lying about that. Simmons really had not made a good first impression on him. Had he thought the guy was hot back then? Sure thing. But the way he had acted and sold himself was just going against everything Grif believed and he found that Simmons had just been a pain in his ass.

It had taken him at least a year in Blood Gulch to realize that there was more to Simmons than he at first thought. And now they were here, and he would not want to exchange the man for anything in the world.

“And I thought you were the laziest, good-for-nothing idiot I’ve ever met.” Simmons explained with the same smirk on his lips.

“I see nothing much has changed then.”

“Nothing much at all.”

And both chuckled about that, simply because it was so bizarre that they were here now after all the shit they had gone through. What were the chances? Simmons could still be on his ice planet, if things hadn’t gone badly. Or one of them had decided against Project Freelancer. Or they simply could have ended up on a different team. Yet here they were, practically cuddled together and nothing could ever take this from them.

They had found each other. Was it really a coincidence? Or had some higher power interfered with them? Grif had no answer for that and he was honestly not too interested in questioning this.

All he knew and cared about, was that they were here and happy.

Things were good. For once they were actually good.

They had this, they were well and alive, and they could enjoy this.

Maybe one day they would overcome their bullshit.

Maybe there was a future. Maybe there was hope.

Grif dared to dream again.

////////////////////////////////////

At first Grif had not thought much about the journalist and her cameraman arriving. That happened sometimes. After all they were the heroes of Chorus and they had been interviewed before. A studio had even approached them to get the movie rights. It was a bit ridiculous.

He hadn’t even thought much about said journalist pressing them that she had something very important to show them. This was probably a PR stunt to get them to react in a certain way, or spill the beans, have a slip of the tongue. Whatever.

Grif really wasn’t too urged or worried by this. To him it was just another day.

That was until the journalist put a device on the table in front of them and a hologram of Church started to flicker to life.

“… Help me...!”

**_No._ **

**_No no no._ **

**_No no no no no no._ **

Please no. This was a joke, right?

This was not another call for action?

Surely, they all would not…

“We need to help him!” The first one called.

Everyone agreed. They needed to leave and find him and help him.

**No.**

**No.**

Grif’s ears started to ring, drowning out their voices. This wasn’t happening. Church was dead. Epsilon was dead. This couldn’t be true. This was a trap and they were falling right into it.

And why? Because they had refused to accept his death. Refused to ever talk about it, work through it.

Forget it. Repress it. Do not talk about it.

And now that something was presented to them, they jumped for it. Because they were desperate, and they missed Church deeply.

But Grif knew they were making a mistake in a false hope to see their friend again.

His heart was beating quickly, he felt like he couldn’t breathe.

No one was paying attention to him when he turned around and left. They were all too busy to plan their trip. What they needed to pack and where to go first.

Grif found himself in one of the caves of the moon. He sometimes came here when he needed solitude.

No one else knew about this little spot, but him.

And now he sank to the ground and pressed his palms against his ears. The beeping wouldn’t stop.

He couldn’t breathe.

_He could not breath!_

Tears started to fill his eyes and he knew exactly what this was. Unfortunately, he had seen Simmons go through this on several occasions, Tucker once after he had lost his whole squad in the war.

He was having a fucking panic attack.

Because they would leave again. Back to an adventure. Back to danger. This was a trap and they would all run happily into it. Maybe they would get hurt or die.

Again, he had to fear for them. Again, he had to worry.

Now, that they had finally found a peaceful home, they happily ran off again. They weren’t even considering to not do this; it was simply not an option.

Grif had hoped this would be their final stage. That they could stay here and be happy. Good fucking lot that did for him.

That’s what he got for hoping. That was his reward.

He was a fool. Again. When would he ever learn?

He heard footsteps and was glad he had brought his helmet along. Quickly he put it on, so his expression and tears were hidden from whoever was bothering him now.

“Grif?” He heard the journalists voice.

“Go away.” He growled, glad about how stable his voice sounded despite his emotional state.

Of course, she was not having any of that and instead asked him why he was so upset. What a question! How dare she come in here, talk to him like this, after she had destroyed everything?

Grif felt himself growing angry. And he was rarely ever angry, he just wasn’t like that. But now he preferred being piessed off over having a breakdown.

“You!” He hissed, “You come here, you drop that bomb on us and then everyone goes springing into action! We were supposed to be _done_!”

“And leave Church to his fate?”

“Fuck Church! I spend half my life dealing with his shit!” Church was dead. He was dead and gone and even if he was still alive, Grif was done having to deal with it. He was over this. “Why can’t he just stay dead?!”

It hurt saying that. Of course, it did. He missed that asshole as much as the others, but now his ghost was haunting them forever. It just wasn’t fair, or healthy.

“I spend a lot of time reading up logs.” The journalist very calmly started to explain back at him how his actions spoke louder than his words. How she had read about him being the one who always answered the call, who always helped his friends and fought for the greater good. Like Grif didn’t know all of this. Like he didn’t know how he pretended to not care but did so deeply it was breaking him from the inside.

How dare she. How dare she tell his story back at him, like he wasn’t there? Like she somehow knew him better than he did himself?

She got here, destroyed his peace, destroyed his hope and now tried to twist it into some guilt trip, making him jump into danger. Fuck that!

Fuck her!

“You don’t know a thing about me, lady!” He yelled. He never yelled. But he had enough. “I hate Simmons!” A lie. “I hate Sarge!” More lies. “I hate everybody! Put that into your fucking paper!!”

With an anger burning so hot and bright it was making him feel like he was about to explode, Grif stomped past her – making sure to bump roughly into her shoulder on his way out.

He had to put an end to this. He would put an end to this!

He couldn’t take this heartbreak anymore. He had to protect himself for once, and end this. Here and now.

This was twisting him into a person he simply was not. Angry, spiteful and bitter. Hopeless. Anxious.

Dexter Grif was not the type for panic attacks. Fuck all of this and all of them. They, the military, the wars, the fights, his team… They had broken him too many times. He was done for.

Again, he was glad that his helmet. This would be the last time he shed a tear for these assholes.

/////////////////////////////////////

While Grif was walking back to where the group had gathered, something inside of him grew cold and hard. He was surprisingly calm now that he had made a decision.

There would be no more adventure. No worries, no sleepless nights.

He would not need to pick up a weapon again, deal with these idiot’s ideas and problems.

It was… calming.

After all these years of being pushed around by random chance, bad luck and awful people, Grif finally had decided to take his life back in his own hands. No one would be able to lead him anywhere, not be able to tell him what to do.

He would focus only on himself for the first time in years. He would recover, sleep, eat and take his meds. And maybe one day he would look back on this and laugh. What an idiot he had been! He should have done this much earlier!

Had anyone forced him to become a captain on Chorus? No. He had done it anyway, because he had cared about his friends. Well, good fucking lot that had done for him. It was a mistake and he was still paying for it.

And these people didn’t care. Or at least Grif wanted to convince himself right now that they didn’t.

Sarge kept on abusing him, the other made fun of him, were angry at him and called him stupid all the time. He was like a hate glue that kept them all together.

After he had risked life and limb to keep them safe. Had he gotten a single thanks? Of course not.

But that didn’t matter anymore, because these idiots would have to go on without him.

Really, Grif had made a mistake to begin with. They should have never become his friends. He had been right from the beginning on and his mistake was to not follow his original plan.

And Simmons? Whatever it was that held the man back, Grif was simply done with this. The back and forth, the kiss and the sex and then they went back to being bros. His heart could not take it anymore.

He had really been stupid enough to let himself believe that they had time. That they would figure this out and live together on this moon.

What an idiot he was.

Simmons would never overcome whatever it was that had him holding back. He would never be comfortable with Grif as a partner.

But all that didn’t matter anymore. He was done.

The reds and blues had already packed everything into the single ship they owned and had gotten back into their armour, helmets and everything. They were ready to leave.

“Grif! There you are. We were waiting for you. What are you doing?” Simmons steps forward, Sarge was right behind him.

Red team was waiting for him to join. But this time, he would not.

“I quit.” It came out calmer and easier than Grif himself had expected. It felt like a weight was taken off from his shoulders.

“… Quit what?” Simmons’ expression was hidden by his helmet, but Grif could hear his confusion in his voice.

He took all but a second to mull this over. No turning back now. Don’t be a coward.

His heart was breaking.

“You.” He addressed Simmons directly, because he was, first and foremost, quitting him. Quitting what they were having. He was done.

Grif didn’t let too much time pass, because he didn’t want questions. So he quickly addressed the whole crew. “All of you. I’m done.”

“What in the sam hill are you talking about, soldier??” Sarge spoke up, sounding puzzled.

Simmons seemed to be stunned into silence, simply staring at him from behind his visor.

Grif gave the man a final smile, even though Simmons could not see it with the helmet on, and turned away, walking off. He didn’t owe them any explanation or answers.

“Grif! Come back here, that is an order!!” Sarge yelled behind him, sounding oddly hurt.

Surely that was just wishful thinking. Sarge was just upset that he had no one to shoot at anymore.

Grif stayed quiet and walked back to his cave.

After a few minutes he saw their ship fly off into space.

It was done. It was over.

Dexter Grif’s adventure ended right here and now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, we all know this isn’t the end of his adventure at all :P 
> 
> His breakdown and his alone-time on the moon are absolutely one of my favorite episodes of all rvb, and I had to talk about it. I feel like it’s one of the most important character moments for Grif and something I always have in mind while writing this fanfiction.


	5. The beginning of an end

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter is upon us!! 
> 
> With this written down and out of my system, I already consider little spin-off chapters that will stand alone but tie into the end of this story. So keep your eyes open for that!   
> I have to thank you for your kudos and comments, because that really was the fuel that kept me going!! 
> 
> And a special thanks to Yin, Theoddduckling, Donotmind_mehere and zanezell155!! You guys rock!! <3 
> 
> Now have fun and I hope you enjoy!! 😊

_“Meet me on the rooftop.”_ – Unknown Number.

The cigarette pack in hand, he walked down the long and sterile looking hallway, feeling bone tired.

There was ugly artwork on the walls, and everything smelled like disinfectant. Every now and then you could hear someone talk quietly or a cough.

Grif wondered how hospitals were not even trying to make this a more comfortable experience. Instead they left everyone feel slightly icky and lonely.

The architects needed to be sued.

He took the elevator up to the last floor of the big building, walked up an extra pair of stairs and pushed the heavy door to the rooftop open.

The sun was setting already and bathed everything in a tender orange and pink glow. It was getting colder and Grif could see his breath puff a cloud in front of his face.

Looking around he decided that he was most likely too early, so he walked over to the metal-skeleton of some AC and simply sat down on it.

Staring ahead, he could see over the rooftops of many other buildings and even more construction sides. The planet and the people were slowly recovering from what they had gone through, but it would take many years until they would forget.

He put a cigarette between his lips and lit it, puffing out the warm smoke against the wind.

A year ago, he would have not thought he would ever be back here. He had honestly believed that that moon was his final station and he would live his life there until the end.

What a fool he was. Had he ever thought this through properly? Staying there all alone, with no human contact?

What had he hoped to archive with his glorious plan? That he would not suffer anymore, would not care about the reds and blues and forget about Simmons?

When the others had left him – or rather, he had left the others – he quickly came to realize that he had a flaw in his logic. He had approached this all wrong.

His worry about the well-being of his friends had not magically stopped because they were far away. It had not stopped him from overthinking, nor had it stopped his heart from breaking. Instead it gave him even more worry, because he had no way of knowing anymore if they were alright.

And his distance to Simmons had also not magically fixed his feelings for the man. Instead he longed for him even more, imagined how it would be to lie next to him and missed waking up with him.

Grif had managed to make this all worse.

Of course, he had lost it in the end, gone a little mad… to put it nicely. Months alone, sick with worry, had broken him.

He had started to talk to volleyballs in his pure desperation for human contact. Had started to re-play scenarios, started to imitate their voices.

And when he wasn’t talking to objects, he was obsessively cleaning until his fingers were bleeding. With the absence of any distraction or friend around him, Grif had started to skip on his OCD medication and eventually it had gotten the better of him. His thoughts had scattered, forcing him into repeating and spiralling out of control. Trapped in his own head with no one to free him from it.

Grif had not been aware how badly he would have to pay for his decision. It had fixed absolutely nothing and only showed him how self-destructive he truly could become.

His months on the moon were a terrible nightmare and even now he shuddered when he thought back on it.

His friends had forgiven him by now, but they had also seen what had happened to him. Sometimes, when he walked off on his own to seek solitude, they were giving him worried glances.

Grif was aware that he hadn’t left the cursed moon without a little bit of damage. Some odd ticks that still hadn’t quiet left him.

Dr. Grey had urged him more than ever to start talking to her, but Grif found that now, that he was re-united with his friends, he would heal on his own. Eventually he would, he was sure.

In the end it had taught him a lesson: The reds and blues were not made to settle, at least not for now. They would walk off right into danger, no matter how much he tried to stop them. It was up to Grif to figure out what and who was really important to him and he had to stand up for that.

He had learned that all this time he-

“What is the status on Agent Washington?” The deep voice suddenly popping up right next to him, paired with the man showing up out of thin air, had Grif yelp in fear and throw his lighter across the rooftop.

“Fucking hell.” Grif’s heart was pumping madly, “You really need to work on your entrance. Jesus Christ.” So much for reflecting on his own thoughts in peace and quiet.

“… Forgive me.” Locus made a face, unable to hide that this was a bit embarrassing to him and took a step back from Grif. “Either way: How is he?”

Another thing that Grif would have never thought was, that he would make some kind of buddy with Locus of all people.

Well, maybe _buddy_ was a too strong word. Maybe being Locus’ go-to person was better.

But if it hadn’t been for the ex-mercenary, then he would still be sitting on this moon. In the end, he owed Locus at least that. And for the moment, he was willing to believe that Locus would not pull any shit on them. It was a very thin and careful trust.

“The doctor said he will recover.” Grif took another drag from his cigarette, “But he will need months and it will be really hard. I think if it wasn’t for you being quick, he would be dead now.”

A shot right into his neck, heavy blood loss and brain damage. Washington really had gotten the worst end of the stick. But they all had accepted it and now, that he was at least not in a state of dying anymore, the reds and blues had sworn to support him on his way to recovery.

He would not go through this alone.

And as far was Locus was concerned, nothing had happened after he had brought Wash to this hospital and now. Certainly, no time travel mess, that the reds and blues quickly had undone again. There was no use messing with timelines.

The only souvenir was currently stuck to Grif’s thigh in form of the handle of his very own energy sword.

“I see.” Locus looked rather awkward, but that seemed to be his general state. Grif would have never thought someone could be more awkward than Simmons, yet here they were. “I will check in on him from time to time, but otherwise I prefer staying low and quiet. I am… aware, I have no right to be around just yet.”

“Ah, don’t worry too much about it. I’m sure he will be glad to hear someone else is checking on him.” Grif smirked, another drag of his cigarette followed.

Locus gave him a little nod, before he continued: “I leave you be for now. You have my number, if you ever need me.” And with that the man turned invisible and was surely gone just as quickly. Most likely to not make things more awkward.

Grif was left to be by himself again and he decided that he would sit here for a little bit longer to enjoy the view and the fresh air. Besides, the hospital itself was freaking him out a little.

There was just something about it, that made you feel that people inside were miserable – not just the patients, but the stressed doctors and nurses as well. And if you asked Grif, he had surrounded himself with enough stress for a lifetime.

He also thought about Kai and how glad he was that she had joined them. Of course, this also meant she was exposed to the danger and adventures as well, but he had learned his lesson and found he was better off having her around than wondering about her without any way of contacting her.

Grif also kept thinking about how easily she had forgiven him for confessing that he had been lying to her about being drafted. For years he had worried that she would hold it against him, that he had run from home in a search for structure and a purpose and had left her alone in the process.

He had imagined she would yell at him, be angry and maybe cry… Instead, Kai simply had smiled at him and hugged him close. She didn’t care. She just was happy to be reunited with him again and that he, in return, wasn’t holding the fire-accident against her.

Maybe he had approached this all wrong. Maybe he needed to learn to trust people. He wasn’t responsible for everything, nor was he free of mistake.

His train of thoughts was interrupted when he heard the heavy door to the rooftop being opened. He turned his head and smiled when he saw Simmons.

“There you are.” Simmons raised an eyebrow at him. The man’s helmet was nowhere to be seen, but he was still in full-body armour. “I was wondering where you have gone off to.”

That was phrasing it nicely. Grif was aware that Simmons had probably worried that Grif was off to do something stupid again. Ever since the moon he tended to walk off on his own sometimes. It was a harmless habit, but it was nice to see that Simmons was still checking up on him.

Grif liked to think that Simmons was actually worried.

“Just went for a smoke.” Not quite the truth, but his contact to Locus was still a bit of a touchy topic. No use to bring that up right now.

Simmons walked over to him and sat down next to him on the AC. The metal bend a little under their shared weight.

“I was sitting with Wash for a little. It’s…. odd to see him like this. Pale as a sheet.” Simmons then muttered.

“Has he woken up yet?”

“No, he is still asleep. Do you think he will remember what happened once he wakes up?”

Grif huffed a little laugh and shook his head. His cigarette had burned down by now and he simply flicked it to the ground. “I don’t think so. As far as he knows, he was shot and then went to the hospital. The whole timeline bullshit never happened for him.”

“Thank god. That would be confusing, I bet.”

For a moment they just sat in silence, looking over the city and enjoying the last beams of sunlight.

Grif caught himself wondering what they all would be doing now. Was the next adventure already waiting for them? Most likely. Of course, there would be a little pause because of Wash. Kimball had given them all access to a hotel, giving them a whole floor with rooms for themselves. Simply because no one was on a holiday anyway, as they were still in the process of re-building Chorus and the hotel was empty because of that, but also because it was close enough to the hospital.

The group had already agreed that at least one person should always be with Wash , once he woke up. They had seen how bad this was affecting him and they all felt like they owed the man their best support.

But what would happen after Wash recovered?

There was a clasp on his armour, right by his arm. It was there to help him get it on and off. Grif had grabbed it and opened it. Closed it again. And opened it.

Three times. He had to do this three times.

What if Wash never recovered fully? Who would stay with him?

Clasp open, clasp close.

Kai will surely travel again, right? No need for her to stay. Would she be in danger if she wandered off on her own again?

He couldn’t go with her, but maybe he could-

But before he got completely lost in his thoughts and in the silence, he felt Simmons reaching for the hand currently opening and closing the clasp of his armour and felt him giving it a little squeeze.

“Stay with me.” Simmons was looking at him, smiling a little. “You’re thinking too much again.”

Grif blinked a few times, looking at their hands first, then at Simmons. “Yeah… I didn’t even realize….” He paused. “… Thank you.”

He assumed that was one of the reasons Simmons often went looking for him. Not leaving him alone with his thoughts.

Grif gave their joined hands a little squeeze back, not letting go.

It was a relieve to know that he would not need to be alone. Just like Wash could count on them all, Grif was sure his friends would be there for him as well.

Maybe this was all that mattered in the end.

The machines that Washington was connected to, made noises constantly. Beeping, huffing, pumping, clicking. In a way they were the sign that he was still alive.

When Grif and Simmons opened the door to the man’s room, Tucker was sitting by his bedside, with his helmet in his lap and a worried expression on his face.

Grif had rarely seen Tucker this serious.

“Hey.” Grif simply said into the quiet of the room.

Tucker sighed instead of answering at first and leaned back on his chair. “Do you guys think he will actually ever be his old self again?”

Simmons, who had closed the door behind them again, shrugged: “Absolutely. He will pull himself through this and kick some ass soon again, I’m sure.”

“How can you be so sure about that? You have seen how he was before we tried to un-do it. He was… barely himself.” Tucker made an annoyed little sound, crossing his arms.

“Yeah, but he also didn’t have the support he has right now. Besides, there is no use in expecting the worst. That doesn’t help anyone.”

“And hoping like an idiot it will just magically fix itself, does?”

“Dude, come on.” Grif stepped in and put a hand on the man’s shoulder. “You’re being too harsh right now. I know you’re worried, but-“

“Oh, fuck off. You’re just angry I snapped at your boyfriend!”

For a tiny moment no one said a thing. Then Tucker slapped Grif’s hand away and got out of the chair, leaving the room angrily.

“Jesus.” Grif breathed out the breath he had been holding. “What got his panties twisted?”

“I think he is just worried.” Simmons sighed as well and shook his head. “It’s hard to see the person you’re looking up to in this state. I get it.”

“Still, no need to freak out like that.”

“Seriously? You’re the last person to ever judge anyone for overreacting.” Simmons give him a little smile to show he was just mocking him. Grif was more than relieved that they could joke about this by now.

“Uh-huh? I know a moon Tucker can fuck off to if he wants to. It’s just around the corner.” Grif chuckled and gave the other man a little nudge with his elbow.

“Don’t joke about that.” Simmons huffed and nudged back.

Grif walked over to the, now empty, chair and sat down himself. Wash was not stirring, of course. Just quietly breathing with his eyes closed.

While he was honestly thinking Tucker had overreacted a little bit right there, he could still understand his worry. It was hard to see a friend like this, not moving, pale as a corpse and with too many tubes and needles pushed into him.

And wasn’t that exactly what Grif had feared all along? Now that he was here and the unthinkable had actually hit them, he felt odd about it. Maybe because in the end, Wash had survived and was promised to recover. They could not change what happened, but Grif now saw what was still within their power:

Be here for him. Support him, carry him, be a friend. No one needed to go through this on their own.

In a way it made Grif’s stomach turn a little bit, given he had chosen to leave his friends when it got hard. Sure, he was now back, but the regret and guilt still sat deep.

In all these years, in which he had worried for this to happen, he had failed to realize that the key was not to avoid people and block your heart from them… but rather to embrace them and welcome them, so you would not be alone in a moment of hardship.

And hardship was happening either way, if he was there or not.

Grif learned his lesson and had sworn himself to not let his friends go again. He needed to stand behind them, like they would do for him in return.

“Aren’t you afraid of this?” Grif still asked, feeling like he should communicate. Part of, what he identified as a problem, was the lack of communication that was going on between them. He planned to change that, even though it felt odd to him.

“Of what?”

Grif made a gesture towards Wash. “That this will happen again. He got lucky this time. Somewhat, at least. But what if this happens again? And this time someone actually dies. Sarge, Tucker, Caboose. You. Me. It could happen. Aren’t you afraid of this?” He asked his question again.

Simmons gave him a puzzled look at first, but then turned his gaze away and shrugged. “Of course, I am. All the fucking time. Do you think I’m not aware how often we get ourselves into shit?”

Grif was surprised to hear that. He had expected Simmons to tell him to not be ridiculous, to ridicule him for his worry or simply brush it off.

That Simmons was equally as worried had simply never crossed his mind.

“I just…” Grif frowned, looking for words. “I just assumed you guys don’t care. You all just happily run into the next danger all the fucking time.”

“Really? You think I don’t piss my pants all the time, when we get shot at again? The next… fucking mess, the next madness. Civil wars and now even Gods… Or whatever the fuck these assholes actually were. I just go along and do my part. This-“ Simmons waved at Wash, “-is just a consequence. I know we got very lucky so far.”

Grif felt a lump forming in his throat. With each of Simmons’ words he felt more like an asshole. Simmons chose to stay and go along, while Grif had chosen to stay behind. Like a coward.

“But why do we keep doing it? Why not ignore the next call for action? I feel like after what happened to Wash, it’s time to retire.” Grif then stressed out, fighting hard to keep his voice steady.

Maybe he really had gotten this all wrong. Maybe Tucker exploding in their faces earlier, was simply because he was just as worried and sick of this as Grif had been all the time.

Grif had simply assumed he was alone with this.

“I wouldn’t mind retiring. I just… can’t not follow when something happens.” Simmons muttered quietly. “Sarge can hardly take care of himself. Or Caboose. Someone has to watch over them. Or hack a computer! Can you imagine what would happen if they have to hack something and I’m not there?”

“Dude, your hacking skills suck. Besides we hardly ever needed it.”

“One day you will eat your words, asshole.”

The two exchanged a little smile, but it was more tired than before. It was like they understood between them, that they were both tired of their usual mess, but were unable to escape it all.

In a way, Grif was thankful to hear they shared this. That they all had a mutual worry and that their worry for each other simply kept them going.

The door to Wash’s room then opened up again and Donut entered, a smile on his face once he saw them.

“Oh, I was looking for you!” He announced and pointed with a thumb over his shoulder. “I wanted you to gather. I… have something to announce.”

Well, if that wasn’t curious.

//////////////////////////////////

Donut, Sarge, Lopez, Simmons and himself had come together in an empty hallway, that was currently not in use. Grif quickly realized that Donut had called all of Red Team together for whatever he had to say.

“So, uh-“ Donut cleared his throat, “Thank you for coming here.”

“Oh, come on, just spit it out.” Sarge urged him, crossing his arms impatiently. “What was so important that I couldn’t finish polishing my shotgun, son?”

Donut swallowed visibly and nodded, most likely to himself, before he continued to explain: “The past weeks have been a mess. I know we all are aware. I… got to understand a few things about myself and I-“ Another brief pause, “- I decided to go on a travel.”

“ _Viaje_?” Lopez wondered, sharing the confusion that was now visible on everybody’s face.

“Like a holiday?” Simmons added to the question.

Donut gave him a little nod. “I need a break, you guys.” He sighed, looking down to his own feet. “I need to figure out what I want and where I want to go.”

“So ya just decided to leave us, hm? Like fatass over here did before.”

“Thanks, Sarge.” Grif grumbled, but actually felt like Donut was doing exactly that. But despite them thinking that, Donut quickly explained:

“No, not at all! I will come back to you. I am not leaving you. If you are ever in trouble and need my skilled hands to slick you up, I will be right back!” Donut smiled and shrugged, “I just need time for myself. For a little while.”

Grif wondered if that also had something to do with Doc. As far as he was aware the two had badly clashed in their last fight and Donut had been forced to beat the other man up in the process. Maybe that had hit Donut harder than Grif had originally thought.

They all had been confronted with their own worries and fears, thanks to being trapped in a labyrinth of nightmares. But Grif had simply assumed it was nothing but another one of their weird adventures.

That now Donut actively decided to take a time-out, just meant the man had been hit more than they all had assumed.

“I understand, Donut.” Grif was the first one to encourage his friend, “I… get it. Of course, I do. And I think you do the right thing.”

“Ugh.” Sarge growled quietly under his breath and waved his hand dismissively. “I hate to agree with McMuffin here, but if that’s what you need. Fine. But you better return in old form and ready to kick some blue’s ass!”

“Aw, you guys!” Donut teared up a little – because of course he did – and stepped closer to pull Grif and Sarge into a hug, which both of them complained about loudly immediately.

When Donut finally freed them from the involuntary and slightly awkward hug, he looked over to Simmons, who still hasn’t agreed with this.

“I just don’t get it. Why do you need to leave for that?” Simmons made a face, arms crossed, and body language closed up. “You can do that here on Chorus too.”

“It’s… about being by yourself?” Donut tried his best to reason, “Here I would just be distracted and… guys, I love you all, but you’re a bit dysfunctional and… _loud_. I think it’s important to see the world for myself, in quiet and peace and maybe then I will realize what is really important. Is that really so weird to you?”

Simmons made a face at that like he had just bitten into a sour lemon. Just seeing that had Grif’s heart stop for a moment, because he felt weirdly called out as well.

“You’re all just cowards.” Simmons then snapped, turned around and left.

////////////////////////////

It took Grif nearly half an hour before he figured out where Simmons had run off to.

After ensuring Donut that he would talk to the man and he should not take this to heart too much, Grif had first checked several places all over the hospital: The rooftop, Wash’s room, the cafeteria, the entrance lobby, but he couldn’t find the man.

He then figured that Simmons had maybe returned to their rooms, in that empty hotel that they were allowed to use.

And just when he walked past the hotels entrance door, he met eyes with the ginger – who then proceeded to turn on his heels and walk away from Grif.

Of course he was not in the mood to talk. But Grif honestly didn’t give a damn about that.

“So? What was that?” Grif simply called after him, as he followed the man. “Care to explain?”

“Care to fuck off?” Simmons hissed back at him without stopping.

“Yeah, not happening. You made a bit of an ass of yourself there, you know?”

“So, you just expect me to be happy that the next one simply leaves us? But yeah, at least this time he had the decency to warn us beforehand. Hurray.”

“Donut is not leaving us. He goes on a holiday. Didn’t you hear what he explained?”

“Bullshit, you really think he will come back to us?” Simmons grumbled as he walked up some stairs.

Fucking stairs. Of course he made Grif walk up some damn stairs. Curse him.

“What makes you think he doesn’t want to come back?” Grif hesitated a little, but then added: “I came back too, didn’t I?”

That made Simmons laugh in an angry and sarcastic way. “Oh yeah, you definitely came back! Lost half your mind and got all friendly with an enemy. Wonders that did for you!”

“Yikes, shooting low now, aren’t we?” Grif was already out of breath thanks to the stairs. But Simmons’ words still stung. Was that what the man was thinking about him returning? Was he really that bitter about that? Grif had thought that Simmons had forgiven him, they had even made a light joke about his stay on the moon earlier! So, what was going on now?

“I just find it very interesting how you all just immediately leave when things get a little hard. I thought we’re all in this together.” Simmons finally reached the third floor and walked down one of the hallways there.

Grif, despite wanting to answer that, had to stop for a tiny moment and catch his breath. Holy shit, he really was not in shape.

Once he felt like his lungs had enough air again, he hurried to catch up with Simmons.

“Being in this together doesn’t mean we have to sit on each other all the time!” Grif argued, “Donut will come back, and he will be more recovered and better than before! How is that not a good thing? I don’t get it, Simmons.”

“Yeah, again, that worked out very well for you too, didn’t it?”

Simmons finally stopped in front of a door, Room 225. Probably the one he had decided to use for himself.

Grif stopped with him and threw his hands up a little in a giving-up notion. “I don’t get it. Is this about me? Are you angry because I left? Dude, you gotta see those are two completely different situations, right?”

Simmons turned around and glared at him, looking seriously pissed off. “Maybe this is about you.” He then admitted. “Because you just left us and without you everything fell apart. And now Donut leaves and you tell me I should be happy about that? What if we get into trouble again?”

“Then we will fix this. Together. With or without Donut.” Grif tried to stay calm, even though he also started to get angry about Simmons seemingly and unfairly blaming him now.

“Sure, but what if you then decide you need another break too? Because it’s such a good idea isn’t it?” Simmons hissed, sounding bitter. “Because I don’t see what keeps you here.”

So, it really wasn’t about Donut, but rather that the man had broken an old wound open.

“Jesus, Simmons.” Grif sighed and rubbed the back of his head, trying to figure out what he should say to that. “I already apologized, didn’t I? I thought we’re over this.”

“Maybe you are. I’m just waiting for you to decide this is too difficult again.”

Grif was stunned by this. Was that how Simmons was thinking about him? Had been thinking since he returned to them? It felt like Grif was now seeing that all the trust between them had been broken, or at least was very fragile.

Donut announcing his holiday must have brought Simmons’ fear back to daylight and Grif now was getting the full force of it.

Simmons was afraid that Grif would leave them again. That realization alone was making Grif’s head swim. Sure, he wasn’t so stupid to believe that there was nothing going on between them, yet he still was under the impression that he wasn’t that important in the end.

He was honestly convinced that the others had not missed him as much as he had missed them. After all, they still had each other, while he had been all alone.

And Simmons in particular was… a sore spot for Grif. Because he had missed the man so deeply that he thought he was going mad. All those nights he had hugged that stupid volleyball with Simmons’ face on it, wondering what future they could have together.

Once he had returned, he just tried his best to suppress these thoughts again and settle for being a good friend to Simmons.

“This is… not about things being too difficult.” Grif answered carefully, finding that Simmons looked like he was on the edge of exploding.

“What then? Didn’t you say you’re done with our adventures? The constant trouble? Who says you’re not just going to stay behind when the next trouble comes along? You will just leave me again and-“ Simmons stopped, looking surprised for a moment.

_Leave me._

Leave him. Not the group. _Him_.

“I mean-“ Simmons’ face started to heat up and the man avoided looking at Grif altogether now. “-What… what am I supposed to do without you?”

Grif could feel his heart speeding up in his chest and emotions crashing down on him: Excitement, fear, confusion, hope. What was Simmons saying there?

“Because you’re the biggest fucking idiot who always comes and saves me in the end! You’re the one who keeps my head in the game with your dumb ideas and even dumber hobbies. Who am I supposed to share stories with before we go to bed, and then in the morning, who am I-“ Simmons tried to save his face by rambling angrily and not giving Grif a chance to answer.

Grif knew the man was just trying to not get embarrassed, or even talk about what he had just implied there.

He huffed a quiet laugh, a smile pulling at his lips. After all these years and all the anxiety, maybe Simmons finally had enough of the unspoken truth between them. Maybe it was time they talked about this.

But the nerd was so damn awful at this, he just continued to spew complains at Grif.

In a way, Grif found it adorable and that alone was Grif’s clue about how lost he was for the man. It was ridiculous.

“- and then you never clean up! I can’t believe you would just leave your gross socks-“ Simmons never stopped rambling, still not facing Grif, who was walking up to him now.

“- have you never learned how to clean up after yourself, I mean-“

Grif reached for one of Simmons’ wrists, stopping the man from making wild gestures in his ranting and finally forcing him to look at him.

“Will you finally shut up?” Grif all but smiled, stunning Simmons into silence, before he leaned in and pressed their lips together.

_It was enough_ , he caught himself thinking.

No more dancing around each other. They were breaking each other’s hearts if they kept things so vague. If Simmons truly feared, he would leave him again and truly didn’t see the reason that Grif was still here and why he had returned… maybe it was finally time to communicate his reasons directly.

But, by dear god, did they suck at talking to each other about this.

Grif simply hoped this would be clear enough without any words. In the past years it had always been Simmons who had approached him – Trying to tell him something in Rats nest, kissing him on the sinking ship before Chorus, being on him first when the Temple had activated.

And it had always been Grif who had doubts and often stopped Simmons in his tracks.

Now, that it dawned on Grif that Simmons was hurting over this, he decided it was finally enough. Who knew when they would ever live in peace and retire? Who knew if Simmons would still like him in the next years? Maybe the here and now was enough.

No more _ifs_ and _buts_.

No more.

He was tired of this and he could not stand it anymore. They had suffered enough.

Simmons breathed out, his breath tickling Grif’s skin, as he relaxed into the kiss. It was like Grif had taken all the anger out of him in an instant.

He could feel Simmons reaching for his shoulders to hold himself close, gently pressing into the kiss and giving him the signals that he was more than okay with this.

Grif put his hands on the other man’s hips and lightly pressed him against the wall behind them, kissing him with more urgency, pressing their bodies together flush.

It was like he had been starving and now there was a feast, which he feared would leave at any moment. Because it felt like a dream.

Simmons was so close, he could feel how warm he was, how he shook just slightly and how his fingers pressed into the skin of shoulders. He could smell him, the faint scent of pine tree aftershave and cooling fluid in the man’s cyborg parts.

By all in the world, he was lost for this man and he never wanted to let him go.

Simmons moved his head away a little, parting their lips again to catch some breath – he really wasn’t the most skilled kisser out there, but Grif didn’t mind at all. Instead he used the chance to pepper kisses along Simmons’ strong jaw, down to his slender neck where he proceeded to nipple and kiss the soft skin.

He could hear Simmons breath out with a tiny moan, the man gripping his shoulders even harder. Grif remembered all the sensitive spots he had discovered during the Temple incident and he planned on using those against the man now.

Just when he was working on a pretty bruise against a spot-on Simmons’ neck, the man spoke up: “Grif, wait…” He sounded very breathless. “What if someone comes by? Let’s… let’s go to my room.” After all they were still in the hallway of this empty hotel.

Grif smirked and pressed a kiss against the other man’s jawline. “Uh-huh? Someone wants to get a move on? Didn’t take you for the impatient type.”

“Oh, will you shut up?” Simmons complained and shoved at Grif, so he would give him some space to open the door to his room.

The room was nothing special, but a simple and somewhat crappy standard hotel room. There was a bed with sheets that looked awfully old and dusty, a table with an old lamp and a chair, a tiny bathroom and a closet. The walls were an ugly green, matching the even uglier carpet on the floor. Chorus truly had no time for such unimportant business over their war. It was a miracle that this building was still standing after all.

They closed the door behind them and Grif quickly made sure that Simmons got no time to overthink this and ruin the mood in the process. Instead he kissed the man again, pushing him gently over to the old, dusty bed.

Their armour was a mighty buzzkill right now, clanking against each other and keeping a distance between them.

But luckily Sarge’s stupid field-stripping training was coming in handy in situations like this, or when you really just wanted to drop dead in bed and had no time to bother with all the valves and levers on your power armour.

Piece by piece orange and maroon metal dropped on the floor, ungracefully kicked away so they would not stumble over it. In the end it was just a red and orange pile of unimportant nothing, forgotten in a corner of their room.

Left in their black undersuits, lips still locked together like their life was depending on it, Grif nudged Simmons onto the bed and climbed above him.

Feeling them pressed together like this, legs entangled, and Simmons’ arms wrapped around him, made him feel nothing else mattered in the whole universe. He could feel Simmons’ chest rising and sinking with each intake of breath, could taste his lips against his own and Grif’s head felt like it was wrapped in cotton.

An urgency was taking over, pressing Simmons more into the mattress below them and their lower bodies pressed together.

He could feel Simmons reaching for his arse, digging his fingers into the flesh and pressing their crotches more together, making him really feel the heat that had gathered between them.

“Fuck, Simmons.” He groaned into the man’s mouth and regretted that they hadn’t bothered to take off their undersuits. Grif felt like he had no patience left to bother with that, even though he mourned the idea of naked skin against naked skin.

“Shut up.” Simmons mewled quietly back against him, biting gently down Grif’s bottom lip and bucking his hips up against them, giving them both the friction, they were craving so badly.

“You shut up.” Grif snorted happily, because even in a situation like this he would not be able to hold his tongue and not tease Simmons. But while he still had this in him, he could not stop his hips from meeting Simmons’ gently rubbing their erections together, which were unhappily trapped behind military grade cloth.

“Fuck…” Simmons whined and closed his eyes, mouth falling open with the bliss this was giving him. Grif never had seen anything more beautiful.

He reached for the man’s wrists again, so slim that he could easily hold them both in one large hand and pinned them above Simmons’ head.

“Yeah, just like that.” Grif growled happily and started to rock his partner into the mattress. Again, he felt like they could have had more and be more comfortable in the process as well, but there was no time or patience left for that. They were both chasing a quick relieve, just wanting to be close and together.

Simmons gasped and groaned – music to Grif’s ears – and kept his eyes closed. Maybe because even in a situation like this, he was still a little embarrassed.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful.” Grif, on the other hand, could not be bothered to close his eyes even for a tiny second. Every blink of his eyes made him mourn the loss of seeing Simmons melting under him, moaning and flushed, enjoying what Grif had to give him.

He kept on rocking his hips, pressing Simmons’ lower body more against the mattress and shaking the bed in the process so badly that the old wood started to groan and squeak in protest.

“I’m not going to leave you again.” He promised, out of breath and sweaty, as he leaned closer and crushed their lips together again. “Not if you don’t send me away. I stay.” He continued to whisper against plump and soft lips.

“Grif…!” Simmons all but whined, too blissed out by now to answer him properly. He ached his spine upwards, struggling against Grif’s hand that was still keeping him in place.

Grif could feel the heat pooling more and more to his lower body, his cock throbbing and alarming him that he was close. Now finally his own eyes started to fall close, and he lost himself in the pleasure between them. The animalistic need to keep on moving and pushing and rocking – faster and faster.

He could hear Simmons’ cry out in his own final high beneath him and just moments later he overstepped his own limits, grunting and moaning against the other man’s ear, in a final buckle of his hips.

Grif finally let go of Simmons’ hand then, simply collapsing on top of the other man and catching his breath.

For a few minutes they were just lying there, tightly embraced and breathing heavily. Neither of them willing to say a thing or move a muscle.

That was until Grif started to feel that keeping their suits on in a situation like this had a very… gluey and cold consequence. _Yikes_.

“Fuck, that was…” Simmons muttered quietly then, shifting a little bit under him.

“Amazing? Breath-taking? The best thing ever?” Grif offered to finish the man’s sentence with a cheeky smirk, as he rolled a tiny bit to the side, allowing Simmons to look at him.

“Sticky.” Simmons made a face, but then couldn’t help himself but chuckle a tiny laugh.

Grif couldn’t stop smiling at the other man. For once he felt amazing about his decision. He was sick and tired of fearing the future and overthinking this. Simmons had wanted this – and this time not because they were facing death.

“Yeah, I think we need a shower now. How bothersome.” He snorted and shrugged. “Shame I didn’t bring my cigs. I need a smoke now.”

“You will not smoke in my room! Forget about it!” Simmons sat up and proceeded to lean over Grif now, switching their positions slightly. “… Grif?” He then asked quietly. “Did you mean what you said? Not leaving me again, I mean.”

Grif, now looking up to the other man, was still smiling when he answered, shrugging slightly and crossing his arms behind his head for support. “As I said: As long as you don’t send me away, I will not leave again, no.”

“Why?” Simmons’ brows drew together in worry and Grif didn’t enjoy that look at all. They should be relaxed and happy and not immediately switch back to a gloomy mood and worry. And since he had chosen to be frank about things, simply to fight their stupid habit of being bad at communication, he answered honestly again:

“Because I missed you guys too much. You all drive me fucking insane, but the moment you were not there anymore, I realized what I had. We’re not perfect, but I wouldn’t want to miss a thing again.” And when that didn’t make Simmons’ frown vanish, he added: “I missed you all. But… I missed you a lot more. So much more.” He reached up and made his fingers comb through soft ginger hair, tender and slowly. “I don’t want to be where you are not. I want to stay by your side.”

Grif tried not to show it, but he felt insanely vulnerable admitting that. Even though things had been going back and forth between them, it was still a completely different thing to admit it out loud.

At least he managed to archive his goal: Simmons started smiling down to him again.

“Asshole. You just wanted me to say that out loud, didn’t you?” Grif laughed softly and Simmons started to nod quickly like the cheeky fucker he was. Of course.

“I thought maybe I just imagined this. Maybe I read too much into this. You’re shit at showing your feelings you know that?” Simmons sighed, leaning slightly into Grif’s touch.

“Yeah, you’re not much better. Your palette reaches not further than anger and being a bitch.” Grif snorted, not being too serious about that.

“Fuck you.” Simmons smirked and shoved gently at Grif’s arm. “I could be an actor with how well I understand emotions. You just don’t know what you have in front of you.”

“Oh, I know exactly what I have in front of me.” Grif pushed himself up, trying to kiss Simmons again, but the man pulled back and denied their lips the touch.

“Is that so? Why don’t you tell me more?” Given that Simmons was still smiling, Grif was sure that the man was just pulling his tail and he was having none of this.

He grabbed Simmons’ arm and tried to pull him playfully closer, in an attempt to kiss him again without giving him what he wanted.

“No no! Grif you need to answer my question!” Simmons started giggling, half attempting to wrestle free from him.

“Nope.” He smirked and pressed an especially wet kiss to Simmons’ cheek, making him squeak and laugh.

“Get lost, your beard tickles!”

“Uh-huh. Tell me more.” Grif continued to kiss and kiss and kiss, until Simmons finally managed to free himself from his grip.

“Idiot.” Simmons was still laughing, when he managed to get back to his feet. He took a step backwards and his face pulled into something less pleased quickly, starting to grab the fabric of his suit and pull at it in the area of his crotch. “Ugh, disgusting. It’s drying. Fuck. I need to shower.” Simmons turned to walk over to the little bathroom, but then stopped, seemingly frozen for a moment, before he turned back to Grif: “You will shower too, right?”

Grif, who was currently feeling like the king of the world, simply let himself fall back onto the mattress, relaxing and enjoying the bliss of the moment. He could not be bothered to move right now. “Yeah, eventually.”

“Gross, it will be glued to your skin soon.” Simmons still was not moving and Grif wondered what the hell was going on in the man’s head. He could practically see the gears turning.

Simmons made a little frustrated sound, clearly battling himself internally right now, before he finally started to move again and walked back to Grif, grabbing his hand.

“Come on.” He urged the man, pulling at said hand. “I need to show you how to clean yourself at this point. I won’t let you stay like this.”

It took Grif a good moment to figure out what Simmons even wanted from him. Why was he not letting him rest here for a moment? Sure, eventually he would have to take that shower but…

Then the coin finally dropped and Grif’s whole face lit up. He never had gotten up any quicker in his life, surely.

“Oh yeah, Simmons.” Grif agreed with glee, “You really need to show me how to shower. I’m a bit of an idiot, you’re right. I fear you need to show me this a few times in the near future too, or I will simply forget again!” He practically sing-songed as Simmons pulled him into the bathroom with a very red face, cursing him a little while he was at it.

And while, a few minutes later, Grif was standing in a small shower with Simmons pressed against him – both of them completely forgetting to actually wash themselves, as their hands were busy differently – he quietly wondered why he had been so afraid of this for all these years.

His time alone on the moon and the adventure that followed, had just shown Grif that being frozen by fear of what may happen in future, was more harmful than good in the long term. That the risk, that was always connected to friendship and love, might just be worth it, even if it meant it was just a few more happy moments on their road to an eventual end.

He had no way of knowing if this was a good decision, or if things would stay as they were. Maybe everything would change tomorrow, or next year, but until then Grif was done being ruled by stubbornness and anxiety. He wanted to enjoy what he had and learn to value their little group of idiots.

Because maybe, just maybe, feeling this happy inside a little, crappy shower cabin, was worth all the hardship he had gone through.

////////////////////////

“Oh, guys I will miss you so much!”

After a few days and Simmons finally being convinced that Donut’s little time-out was a good idea, their friend in pink armour decided to fly off. Donut had gotten himself a little ship, packed it with everything he needed in the next few weeks and had a route planned that would send him through peaceful areas of this galaxy.

Grif just happened to have to have gotten an anonymous map for said galaxy, including all the safe spots to land, on his communicator the other day and had forwarded it to Donut.

Locus was still doing his weird little act of not being there, but just curiously knowing when he could offer his help. It was hilarious.

Of course, without explaining to Donut where that map had even come from, the man immediately promised to kiss Locus as a thanks when he saw him next. Grif hoped that he would be there to see the mess.

Now they all had gathered to say their goodbyes and it was the usual awkward, yet emotional scene:

Donut was crying and awkwardly hugging everyone, including kisses to cheeks and foreheads. It was uncomfortable and sweet at the same time and Grif would not have it any other way.

When the man finally flew off with his ship and the group scattered again around Chorus, Grif and Simmons were back sitting on the rooftop of the hospital.

The day was bright and sunny, and their hearts were full of hope for once.

Grif was smoking a cigarette and Simmons was holding his free hand. It was wonderful.

“Remember when we had a holiday on the Vegan Quadrant?” He then asked, watching the clouds fly by.

“Yeah, you got us kicked out of a casino.” Simmons snorted and gave Grif’s hand a little squeeze. “Why are you asking?”

Grif shrugged, taking another drag of his cigarette and breathing out the smoke through his nose. Because he was gross like that. “With Donut leaving and with Wash probably keeping us all here for a while longer, I wondered if we couldn’t have a holiday again. I mean… Just you and me. Getting away a little bit from everything.”

“I thought we agreed that you’re not leaving again?” Simmons immediately sounded anxious, so Grif quickly explained:

“Not leaving. Not like before, not like Donut either. And, not alone, didn’t you listen to what I said?” He sighed, “You and me. Together. For a few days and then we come back to check up on Wash and the others. I could show you Hawaii for example.”

That had Simmons turn his head to look at Grif with big eyes. “You would show me your home?”

Nailed it. Grif couldn’t help but smile and mentally pat his own shoulder. He figured that Simmons would enjoy that, because deep down he was just as sappy as he was. “Of course I would. Would you like that? I could show you all the pretty spots.”

Looking away again to hide his smile – which was a shame if you asked Grif, because Simmons was the most handsome when he smiled – Simmons nodded quietly, unaware of how hard he was pressing Grif’s hand by now.

“I would like that. For… for a few days. Then we return. Just the two of us.”

Grif huffed amused, because Simmons was just repeating back to him what he had just said, but he knew his boyfriend was an idiot like that.

“That’s a deal then. You freaking nerd.” Grif leaned over and kissed Simmons’ lips.

Joining the army hadn’t been the best decision of his live. He had a lot of regrets and scars and awful nightmares to deal with now. But he had also won a lot of things, which was something that Grif needed to remind himself of every now and then.

The reds and blues had practically become a family to him, his safety net and a source of worry and happiness equally.

And Simmons… In the beginning the man had been nothing but a pain to him, someone who was so different from him, that Grif was sure they would never get along. But with time and with himself finally accepting who he was and what he wanted in life, he had found a partner in crime that he would not let go anymore.

And who knew? Maybe this, and simply this – being here, loving, laughing and even worrying, was the answer to the question why he was here all along.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end 😊 
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading and for staying with me through this adventure! I needed to get this story out of my system and now that its done, like I mentioned in the beginning, I already have ideas for little spin-off chapters. So lets see where Grif and Simmons end up next :) 
> 
> Again, thank you for sticking around and I hope you enjoyed it!

**Author's Note:**

> I am not a native speaker and I have no Beta, so please excuse my mistakes.
> 
> Next chapter will be the beginning of Blood Gulch. Grif and Simmons meet again.


End file.
